


Perfect Silhouette

by summersfall



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Colleen Hoover (Books), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Did I say angst?, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, cursing, there's fluff and humor there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summersfall/pseuds/summersfall
Summary: “You made me believe in second chances and at the same time, made me realize that second chances don’texist.”Or:Jonghyun doesn’t believe in second chances. He lost too much in his life to even believe that. Then there’s Minhyun, anoptimisticperson who believes in second chances.Could Minhyun change Jonghyun’s beliefs? Or would it be Jonghyun who changes his?
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun & Kim Jonghyun | JR, Hwang Minhyun/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Title’s taken from the song [Silhouette](https://open.spotify.com/track/223fXkWUd4RxyrogBSMCKb?si=D5JhJfLsR3ad12F9FyhPCg) by Mark Diamond ♥️

> _ “There are people you meet that you get to know, and then there are people you meet that you already know.”  _

Confess | Colleen Hoover


	2. Prologue: Minhyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another broken promise.  
> Another lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [Heart Like Stone](https://open.spotify.com/track/0lNjBeKN7cYL8shrGcKqSe?si=jwCcxoSCQHeCCdY1fftT4g) by Greyson Chance

One thing that Minhyun loved about Seoul was that he could be whoever he was. No one would stare at him and pity his life story or would judge him and give him a dirty look. 

And thus why, he hated being in this cafe. Stuck with Aron as he reminded him of who he truly is. 

“. . . we decided to get a divorce, Minhyun.”

Minhyun didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry at what Aron was telling him. Both, probably. Because what else could he do other than that? It’s not like what Aron told him could change things and he doubted a divorce would change it either.

“Congrats,” Minhyun said, reaching for his cup of coffee. In front of him, Aron sighed. Obviously disappointed with his response. 

“Would it kill you to be nice?” 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” He sarcastically asked. “It’s not like whatever I’ll say would change things.” 

It was the truth. His bitterness aside, he knew that sooner or later, his sister and Aron’s relationship would lead to that. Their family has too much history, and Minhyun doubted that  _ love _ \- no matter how great it is - could change their entangled messy lives.

_ “Minhyun.” _ Aron warningly called him, as if by using his name would correct all the wrongs in the world. “You can’t be like this forever.”

Minhyun bitterly laughed at that. What Aron was telling him was a total lie. Hypocrisy even. Because how could he tell him that he couldn’t be like this forever when he and his sister were doing exactly the same shit?

“Tell me that again once my sister is back to reality and not staying in your place.” 

Minhyun knew that what he said was below the belt but he was too pissed to care. After all, Aron had a hand at everything that happened. From what happened to his sister, to what happened that night. He was also the one who decided to turn a blind eye in everything without even giving him a chance to correct things. But like before, Minhyun didn’t say anything else and instead, reached for his bag and started packing his things. 

Because at the end of the day, he was just a coward who kept running away. “Is that all, Aron?”

He saw a sad smile pass Aron’s face before the older man sighed defeatedly. “Yeah, that’s all.”

“I’m leaving then,” He replied, standing and taking his things. He heard Aron let out a sigh then mumbled a crestfallen  _ ‘sure’ _ . It hurt. It hurt how their relationship had turned into this. But then again, even if things didn’t happen that night, he knew that his relationship with Aron would be the same. 

Not after he found out the  _ truth.  _

Minhyun bit the inside of his cheek then forced a smile. He reached for his bag and handed Aron a paper bag. “Don’t beat yourself up too much and don’t forget to take those. I doubt my sister would be happy knowing you’re not taking care of yourself.”

Aron stared at the paper bag then smiled. “Thanks, Hyun-ah.” 

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, tightening his grip on his bag as he looked away. It pained him to hear that nickname of his. How long has it been since someone called him by that? A year? Two years? Three? He had no idea. It’s been too long since he was with his sister, and the only one left to call him by that was her, and well, obviously Aron. 

“Have a safe trip back to Busan,” Minhyun said. Aron stared at him as if he’s waiting for him to say more, and with a sigh, he took a deep breath. “Tell her I said hi.”

Aron smiled at him sadly and nodded. “I will . . . and Minhyun?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?” Aron asked, staring at him with a hopeful and somewhat begging look.

“You know I don’t like making promises—” Aron cut him off with a shake of his head. 

“Promise me that you’ll go home next month. Just that day, please?” Aron asked, staring at him as if it was a life and death situation. Minhyun hated breaking promises nor lying. But for the last couple of years, that’s what he’d been doing. 

Correction: that’s all he did. 

He nodded, making another broken promise and another lie. Aron smiled. 

“We’ll see you soon then.”

❈❈❈


	3. One: Minhyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Near-death experiences can change a person’s perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [Unsteady](https://open.spotify.com/track/7AOdyU64RafmvJUL4WMotN?si=k3Gipq_jRRiHABO3OYsrjg) by X Ambassadors and Erich Lee

_ “Promise me, Minhyun. One, you’ll learn to forgive; two, you’ll give yourself a second chance; three, you’ll be happy. Four . . .” _

Aron made him promise a bunch of things on the last day he saw him. It’s been a year since that day, and so far he’s been keeping good with his promise - even if it’s only his other unsaid promise and  _ promise number two  _ that he was only doing so far, but, at least he’s doing it. 

After all, before that, he had no intentions of actually making do with his promises. But look at where he is now, doing the exact opposite of that.

Minhyun took a deep breath and exhaled.

This is better. He’s back in Busan and with his sister. He’s also keeping his promises. Even if he’s barely managed to do all, at least he’s trying. Doing what Aron asked him to do was hard. But then again, that’s Aron. He was never one to ask for easy things.

A good example of that was the easiest promise -  _ promise number two: giving himself a second chance. _ Giving himself a second chance was hard. There’s not a moment wherein he didn’t tell the voice inside himself to fucking shut up and suck it up. 

Everyone deserves a shot at second chance after all.

Even when he, himself, didn’t believe that.

But all his negativity aside - promise number two was the easiest thing to do.  _ Promise number three: to be happy _ , was a little harder than number two, but he’s managing to do it little by little. As long as he doesn’t focus on their situation, the fact that he’s broke, has rashes all over his body once or twice a week because of sweat and the saltiness in the air, and had to clean the apartment that he’s sharing with a lazy roommate after a tiring day - he could say that he’s  _ happy  _ and making do with that promise. 

Well, maybe not completely, but, at least he’s  _ trying. _

Promise number one though . . .

Minhyun paused in front of a building. He glanced at his reflection at the glass windows and frowned. Even when he couldn’t clearly see himself - thanks to all the scribbled papers that were stuck on the windows like a wallpaper - his reflection says it all. He’s far from doing promise number one, and it’ll take years and years, and probably until the day he dies ‘til he could do with that promise. 

_ “Be optimistic! You can do everything with a positive mindset!”  _

_ Fuck being optimistic _ . Minhyun wanted to scream at Aron’s voice inside his head. He hated how he could always hear him. Hated how every time he wanted to just give up trying - break these promises that he didn’t even need to do in the first place, Aron would always be there. Loud and clear just like the day and night, reminding him to be fucking  _ optimistic.  _

But Minhyun hated his own voice more. It wasn’t as strong as Aron’s - but it was just as powerful. Cold and heartless as it said one simple line. 

_ Be optimistic, Aron? Look what being optimistic did to us. _

See? That’s how much of an asshole he is. And that’s only a fraction of his thoughts. 

A lot of times, Minhyun wondered what Aron would say to him if he found out that side of him. Would he finally realize that he was a lost cause? That forgiving, being happy, and giving himself a second chance was a waste? 

Hell, he doesn’t even deserve any of those. Not with everything that he did. And it was so obvious. It was so obvious with the way his eyes look so empty, guilty, as if he’s a crimi—

_ “Fuck!”  _ Minhyun screamed, immediately taking a step back. If it weren’t for the hand that appeared out of nowhere - which also was the reason why he almost died - he would be run over by the passing truck. 

Minhyun wasn’t sure if he’s lucky or unlucky. 

He’s still  _ alive. _ He should count that as being  _ lucky.  _

“Fuck.” Minhyun whispered, catching his breath, he glanced at the truck that halted a few feet over them and wished he didn’t, once he saw the driver’s murderous glare combined with curses that would put sailors to shame. The truck driver then gave him the finger then drove off. 

“Well, fuck you, too.” Minhyun chuckled breathlessly, clutching his chest. He could still hear the loud pounding of his heart as his knees shook, and if it weren’t for the hand that was still holding onto his other arm, he would have lost his balance and flop on the ground. 

“That’s the third time you said that,” the guy said. Minhyun laughed and pulled his arm away. 

“Well, try being so close to dying, then maybe you’ll say it too.”

“Touché,” the guy replied, giving him a once-over. Usually, Minhyun would squirm in nervousness with that. He hated when people looked at him longer than five seconds. It felt like they were staring at him as if he was naked - judging him as they read his thoughts, his lies, and everything in his life. 

But this guy? It wasn’t like that. The guy wasn’t staring at him as if he was reading or judging him. In fact, he was just staring at him. It felt oddly comfortable, though. Even when the guy was staring at him with so much concentration as if he was a missing key that he had lost but had no idea which key he was. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Fate is a bitch,” the guy whispered, which only confused Minhyun more. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. The guy cursed again, then shook his head before staring straight into his eyes. 

“Are you straight?”

“What?” Minhyun choked, completely thrown off by the question. Because what the fuck? Did he really just ask him that? After almost dying?

“Are you straight? Yes or no?” The guy asked again in a serious manner this time, complete with his arms crossed over his chest. 

Minhyun glanced around and checked if there were people around. If the guy does something, he’ll need someone’s attention to make sure there’s a witness if the guy - who Minhyun would refer now as  _ crazy guy _ \- does something funny.

Wow, guess near-death experiences really do change a person’s perspective. Maybe once he’s out of this weird situation he could do what Aron always told him to do:  _ be optimistic.  _

“So since you’re not answering, I’ll take that as you’re not straight. Which is all cool, you know. I’m bi, I swing both ways, but enough of that. Do you have any plans of seeing someone sometime soon?”

“No?” Minhyun replied, completely confused and taken aback by the crazy guy’s weird questions. Why is no one around? This side of Busan should be populated at this time for fuck’s sake.

“Aww, too bad. But it’s okay, you’ll change your mind sooner than later.” Crazy guy then reached for his hand, and before Minhyun could scream, he already had a hand over his mouth. “Sshh, don’t be too loud, little JR would wake up, and trust me, you don’t want to wake up little JR, especially not now.”

Before Minhyun could do anything, he was pulled inside the building - or a studio(?) that was inhabited by the scariest black pug that he had ever seen. Growling and staring at him in anger. 

“Oh fuck, he’s awake.”

❈❈❈


	4. Two: Jonghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate is total a bitch.
> 
> ...or maybe, she isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [IDK You Yet](https://open.spotify.com/track/47EWMOElkkbMp5m9SBkx7d?si=wjIui5YwRXeQc9P22CHZvA) by Alexander 23
> 
>  **TW** : there's lot of cursing in this chap, and oh! the beginning of some angst.

_ “Maybe it’s fate,”  _

_ “Let’s hope not.” Jonghyun bitterly chuckled. Nursing his cheek that still hurt, all thanks to Aron’s brother.  _

_ “Don’t say that.” Aron chastised, clicking his tongue as he reached for a pen and paper on his side table. Jonghyun rolled his eyes, and reached for it instead, giving it to his friend and watching him write something on his desk. _

_ “I’m saying the truth though.” Jonghyun muttered. He learned the hard way what fate truly is. It wasn't as beautiful as how movies make it seem. It’s hardly even close. His life was a good example of that. How fate is ugly. Hideous even. And would ruin everything it touched. _

_ He stared at Aron, and saw the state of his friend. Yup, Fate was a total son of a bitch. _

_ “I hope I’m right, though.” Aron said with a careful yet hopeful smile on his face. “And I hope you’re prepared when it  _ _ finally _ _ happens.” _

_❈ ❈ ❈_

_ Fate  _ is truly a son of a _ bitch. _

That’s the second thing that came to his mind once the shock from what’s happening finally settled down. 

Then he cursed Aron. Because even if he may not have a hand at this, still, the least he could do was warn him.

Okay, maybe he  _ did _ warn him. But what Aron said wasn’t really a warning but was nothing more than a wishful thinking - just like how Aron had been in the last years.

God, now he missed that annoying bastard. 

Jonghyun shook his head and glanced at his guest. Now wasn’t the time to miss his friend. He had more important matters to deal with.

Jonghyun still couldn’t believe what was happening, but right now, he was more annoyed about how he wasn’t prepared. 

_ Fuck you, Fate. Fuck you Aron. Fuck you both so damn much.  _

Even without looking in the mirror, Jonghyun knew he looked like shit. He has paint all over his shirt and arms. His hair was oily. He had uneven patches of stubble on his jaw that’s far from being sexy, and worse of all - he still hadn’t showered. 

He hadn’t showered for _two_ _damn days._

But here he was, unprepared and all - staring down the stairs with an  _ ‘I still look sexy even when I look like shit’  _ smile on his face. Because as they said:  _ fake it ‘til you make it _ .

He’s far from making it though. Especially when his adorable pug was making it so hard. 

“He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Jonghyun said in between huffs of breath as his dog trashed in his arms. And as if to prove a point, Little JR bit him. Jonghyun glanced down and saw his guest wince. 

“He just bit you.”

“It’s not actually a bite,” he said defensively, carrying the pug to his room and locking him inside. “It’s a nibble of affection.” Little JR growled and scratched the door as if he was some rabid dog and he groaned. “I swear he's usually a behaved pup. He’s really nice and sweet - just not when he’s woken from his beauty nap.”

“Sure,” his guest shrugged, looking away from him and staring around the studio. Jonghyun took a deep breath and reached for his hair. He tried to make it look sexy messy, like those  _ ‘I woke up like this _ ’ bed hair look - but the greasiness on his hair just made it worse. 

God. Why did  _ fate  _ choose today out of all days?

Groaning, he started heading down and paused once he reached the bottom of the stairs. His guest was by the windows now, reading one of the dozens of confessions that was stuck on it. 

“What are all these?” The man asked, touching one of the papers. 

“Confessions,” Jonghyun answered. 

“Yours?” his guest asked, glancing at him. Jonghyun shook his head. “From the people that you know?”

“If they’re from the people that I know, I’ll be crazy by now,” Jonghyun chuckled and waved his hand to the door. “All of those are anonymous. People left it there, then I use some for inspiration.” 

“Inspiration?” 

“Yep,” Jonghyun answered, nodding towards the rows of rows of paintings in the hallway that still needed arranging. “Inspiration to do  _ those _ .” 

“Wow,” his guest whispered in awe, walking towards his paintings. He stopped at the first one, then turned towards him. “You made this?”

“And the others as well,” Jonghyun answered. He reached for his phone and checked the time. He only had an hour and a half left before his showing.  _ Just fucking great.  _ He let out an exasperated sigh and glanced at the  **_HELP DESPERATELY WANTED_ ** sign and groaned. He needed to man up. He needed to man up  _ now. _ He glanced back at his guest and took a deep breath. 

It’s now or never. In less than a minute he’ll know if  _ Fate  _ is a total bitch or not. 

“So . . .” Jonghyun began and his guest immediately looked at him, albeit not fondly, as if he just interrupted him from enjoying his time. Jonghyun appreciated that - and this  _ ‘fated’  _ meeting too, of course - but he’s running on a tight time. 

_ Smile, Jonghyun. Smiling works sometimes. _

_ “‘So’?” _ his guest repeated, cocking his eyebrow.

“ _ So,  _ are you here to save me?” Jonghyun asked and immediately regretted how cringey it sounded. Why did he have to phrase it like that? Couldn’t he just ask in a normal way? Like: ‘Hi, can you help me? Because just like I’ve told you earlier, I badly,  _ very badly,  _ needed an assistant right now’. 

But of course, being the pathetic person that he was, he didn’t do that. 

_Why_ ** _didn’t_** _he do that?_

_ Because you practiced it so long and wanted to look sexy and attractive. Duh.  _

Jonghyun bit the inside of his cheek and groaned internally. That wasn’t  _ sexy  _ and  _ attractive  _ at all. It was cringey and creepy. And even if he spent fifteen minutes of pacifying his guest earlier that  _ no, he didn’t kidnap him  _ and had to promise him over and over again that he had no intention of  _ torturing, raping, and killing  _ said guest and just brought him inside because he looked like he’ll pass out any minute - and of course, his selfish reason of their fated meeting - he was sure trust issues or not, he just freaked him out. 

_ Way to go, Jonghyun. Congratulations on ruining everything again.  _

“Is that how you pick up people you date?”

_ “What?”  _ Jonghyun asked, completely shocked. Not just because of the question but the fact that he was still here. Shouldn’t he be running away now? Shouldn’t he be calling the cops because some creepy guy just asked him some creepy shit?

“I’m asking if that’s how you pick people up,” His guest repeated, turning around and moving to the next painting. “Say cringey lines like that and make them swoon with that smile of yours.”

Okay now, he’s just totally lost. Not on the cringey line but because of the words:  _ swoon  _ and  _ smile _ . 

His guest found his smile  _ swoon-worthy.  _ His smile actually  _ worked.  _

Jonghyun wanted to pat himself on the back for that.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” 

“Wait,  _ no.  _ I don’t do  _ that. _ ” 

His guest snorted. “You just told me half an hour ago that you lost an employee because you two broke up.”

_ Why did he tell him that?  _ Now he has this image that he was hiring employees so that he would date them. When in fact, it was far from that. The dating just happens. And he’s sure as hell wasn’t using that cringey line of his to get him  _ dates.  _ Those people that he dated didn’t even deserve that line of his.  _ Sure _ , it was cheesy and creepy, but that line of his was reserved for this  _ guest  _ \- which he’s still not a hundred percent sure if it was really him since he still hasn’t asked him his name. 

_ Why didn’t he ask for his name? _

_ Should he ask for his name now? Or would that be creepier? _

_ Okay, chill Jonghyun. One at a time. Focus on the most important thing first. Like clearing your name.  _

He cleared his throat. “Look, I don’t pick them up like that,” he began. His guest nodded at him to continue, and Jonghyun felt embarrassed as fuck, especially with that amused smile on his guest’s face. 

“I don’t do anything, like  _ anything _ at all.” Wow, now that sounded so pompous. “Okay, I may have done something, but I swear, it’s not because of that. They usually dig the stereotypical mysterious and loner artist look and all I have to do is look . . .” he paused, wondering why he even was explaining this. 

“Look, what?”

“Uh . . .  _ contemplating  _ and _ lost?”  _ He said unsure. Well, actually he’s sure that’s the reason why he ended up dating someone. He heard that countless times after all. 

“Seriously?” His guest asked, looking back at him to check whether he was lying or not. 

“Yeah,” Jonghyun shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sadly, smiles don’t work. People prefer the lost look than cheery ones.”

“They do?” The man asked, amusement gone from his face. Jonghyun nodded and waved a lazy hand in his studio. 

“Those paintings are living proof.” 

“That’s kinda sad,” his guest muttered, stopping at the painting of a woman whose face was flawless and could be called  _ ‘perfect’ _ , while the other side of her face was full of scars.  _ “I’ve never let anyone see me without makeup. Because I know that once they do, they’ll see who I really am. How I’m not perfect and full of mistakes.”  _ His guest sighed. “This is beautiful.”

Jonghyun watched as his guest’s fingers gently ran on the confession attached to the painting as if he’s scared that if he’s not careful he’ll break it. A look of raw emotion then passed by his face. As if it was his story. 

It probably is, just like how it’s  _ his _ and everyone else’s. 

But Jonghyun didn’t expect  _ this  _ reaction. His clients seldom connect to it on a deeper level like how his guest did. Usually, his clients find his paintings tragic. That’s the reason why they buy it after all. Because they’re too tragic, too sad, too messed up and somehow served as a reminder how lucky they are. He didn’t mind it, of course. That was the purpose of his art, after all. A reminder to be thankful that they’re not suffering the way the person that inspired the painting does. 

_ “God doesn’t exist. And if he does, he should be ashamed.”  _ His guest read out loud, staring at the painting Jonghyun knew all too well. “How did you feel when you painted this?”

“Like shit,” He whispered. He checked his phone again and saw that he only has an hour left. He was about to ask his guest again if he could work for him even just for the next two hours, but the look on his face stopped him. 

If Jonghyun thought that what he saw earlier was a look of raw emotion, then he was wrong. It was nothing compared to this. 

“Why? Because you don’t believe in God?” his guest whispered, staring at the painting as if he could feel it’s pain. As if he lived through it’s pain. 

“Oh, I believe in him, all right,” Jonghyun answered. He placed his phone in his pocket and walked to where his guest was. He stopped just right in front of the painting and took it all in.

It’s been a long time since he stared at it like this. In fact, he didn’t remember looking back at it after he finished painting it. And that was two years ago. Back when he first started this studio. 

He glanced at the confession that inspired it, and like the first time he read it, he felt like he was punched hard in the gut. He hardly painted something so close to him. As much as possible, he refrained himself from doing that. Not because he wanted to put boundaries between him and his art, but because he knew that not doing so would lead to something like this.

Something too personal.

Like this painting of his  _ mother.  _

“Would it be wrong of me to think that he should be ashamed?”

Jonghyun felt movement next to him, and when he glanced up, he saw his guest brushing away a tear from his cheek. The man next to him took a deep breath then shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s wrong.”

Jonghyun looked back at the painting and smiled. “What’s your name?”

“That took you long.” His guest softly chuckled before glancing at him. “Minhyun. My name is Hwang Minhyun.” 

“Nice to  _ finally  _ meet you, Minhyun, I’m Jonghyun.” He said, offering his hand with a smile. “So, are you here to save me?”

“Hmmm . . .” Minhyun hummed as if he was thinking about it, but Jonghyun could see that it was already a done deal. Especially with the way he was now smiling at him. 

Minhyun took his hand then grinned. “How much is the salary?”

Maybe  _ Fate  _ wasn’t a total bitch after all. 

❈❈❈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts on how this chap went by commenting down below~
> 
> PS: if you have an idea what au-book this is, let's keep hush hush. No one wants a spoiler ( ͡❛ 👅 ͡❛)


	5. Three: Minhyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eye for an eye.  
> A tantrum for a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [Poker Face](https://open.spotify.com/track/6gbiWlpAv5feX9Pviy5jVM?si=XXWmbb0xQLKoecWgvieDZg) by Kaiak

“. . . god, what did I get myself into?” Minhyun muttered, closing his eyes with a sigh.

It was a stupid question. He knew quite well why he agreed to do this. And while the huge pay of a hundred dollars per hour was the closing deal, he knew that even if he was offered to do it for twenty dollars, he would still say yes. 

The answer was right in front of him after all. Drawing him in like how the Sun had drawn in  _ Icarus. _

“Something you won’t want to get out of,” a voice answered behind him. Minhyun froze in place then took a deep breath and sighed. Being in this studio makes him forget that he wasn’t alone. It’s weird and fascinating in a way, because he wasn’t the type to get lost in the moment, especially when he’s with someone he hardly knew. But for the last hour that he’d been here, that’s exactly what he'd been doing. 

It didn’t help that the stranger - well, not really a  _ stranger _ \- Jonghyun, had an oddly comforting presence. It should alarm him. He should be feeling uneasy and scared at how he’s like this. But it was the opposite. He felt comfortable. He felt secured. To the point that all the protective walls that he built seemed to be gone and how with the longer he spent here, it felt like he’s becoming one of the confessions. Laying all his emotions, his flaws, and his secrets bare and out in the open. 

He knew he should be running away. He should be running away now. Running away as fast as he could to stop this before something happens. But instead, he remained where he is. Remained rooted in place as he stared at the painting that he hadn’t noticed earlier. 

The painting wasn’t that different from the others. It had Jonghyun’s signature style. Tragic and beautiful. But if there’s something that made this painting stand-out from the others, it was because it was far too real; far too tragic. And unlike Jonghyun’s other paintings where you have to understand the confession that inspired it, this one showed it all. 

Minhyun didn't know much about art, but he didn’t need to know much to understand the emotions behind it. It’s so  _ evident. _ That just by looking by the man’s eyes in the painting he could feel his emotions. His  _ story _ . His _ pain. _ That even when his eyes were in the deepest shade of warm brown, it felt empty. It felt so dead. A complete contrast to the different colors that surrounded it. 

Then again, those colors showed every emotion that the man in the painting was feeling. Blue for  _ loneliness. _ Red for  _ anger.  _ Black for  _ guilt. _ And yellow for  _ hopelessness.  _

Minhyun always loved the color yellow. He always thought that it symbolized positivity, happiness even. 

Until now that is. 

He looked down and began to read the confession attached to the painting. 

**_Sometimes I wish that my best friend was dead. Because everytime I see him, it feels like it’s better to be one._ **

He traced each and every word, letting it sink in, then pulling it to him as if by doing so, he would be able to ease and take all the pain away from the person behind it. Minhyun badly wished he could do that. Even just for a day. 

“You’re worrying me,” Jonghyun said, pulling Minhyun away from his thoughts. He glanced at the artist and saw him staring at the painting in front of them. Minhyun then noticed how Jonghyun’s posture was too tense, far too different to how he was earlier. It was as if Jonghyun’s ready to bolt off if he does as much as move. 

“Why?”

Jonghyun bit his lip then sighed. “You feel and understand too much. And I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

Minhyun chuckled tiredly and faced ahead. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing? I’m working for you after all.”

“All I need you to do is handle the transactions, Minhyun.” Jonghyun replied. “I don’t need you to  _ feel _ nor  _ understand _ .” 

Minhyun bitterly laughed at that. Not because Jonghyun was being an ass, but because he understood what Jonghyun was doing. 

Jonghyun was building his walls. Piling it up one after the other, and making sure no one would ever get inside. 

Somehow, Minhyun felt bitter with that. It was unfair after all. Jonghyun had seen him without his walls. Hell, he saw how he was an emotional mess only minutes ago. And though it wasn’t Jonghyun’s fault because it was  _ him  _ who ended up crying just because he understood and felt the story behind the paintings,  _ still _ , the least Jonghyun could do was be a little  _ empathetic. _ He was the one who painted these after all. 

So if he lost his cool and became an emotional wreck, Jonghyun had a hand in that. And that if he chose to be the childish-tantrum-throwing brat that he once was, Jonghyun had a hand in that, too. After all, he was the painter. And well, as they say, an  _ eye _ for an  _ eye.  _

“Have you ever written your own confession?” 

Jonghyun tensed next to him then frowned, confused on why he’s asking him this, when it was obvious that Jonghyun didn’t need to. His confessions were in every piece that he had painted. Screaming and asking to be heard. But Minhyun wanted to be a childish-tantrum-throwing brat. He wanted Jonghyun to admit it. He wanted him to break his  _ walls. _

_ “No.  _ Why should I?”

“Why  _ shouldn’t _ you?” Minhyun asked innocently, yet the bitterness in his voice said so otherwise. Jonghyun narrowed his eyes at him, warning him not to push it. Problem was, he couldn’t care less. He shrugged, looking away from Jonghyun and waved his hand around. “I mean, it’s kinda  _ unfair _ , don’t you think? You use those confessions as inspirations, use their vulnerabilities to come up with these  _ paintings, _ yet yours are hidden. Yours are  _ safe.”  _

_ Wow, he truly was a childish-tantrum-throwing brat.  _

Jonghyun stared at him as if he was just seeing him the first time. And just when he thought he would be fired right then and then, Jonghyun laughed. 

“You’re  _ evil,” _ Jonghyun said in between laughs as he shook his head. “Even more evil than Bridgette, and Bridgette was a  _ bitch.”  _

_ What the fuck just happened? _

Jonghyun was laughing. And Minhyun was so confused and lost at what’s happening and didn’t even know whether what Jonghyun said was a compliment or an insult. Was being evil than Bridgette a compliment or an insult?

Who the fuck was  _ Bridgette _ even? And why wasn’t Jonghyun mad at him? Shouldn’t he be yelling at him now telling him to  _ fuck off? _

“I’m not mad or firing you, don’t worry,” Jonghyun answered as if he could read his thoughts. “And it’s a compliment actually. Bridgette is the  _ ex,  _ the one who failed to inform me that she’s also quitting the moment we broke up.” 

“Are you a mind reader or something?”

“No, but I could be close to that especially when your thoughts are written all over your face,” Jonghyun answered, still shaking his head in amusement. The artist then started heading up the stairs but paused midway when he realized he wasn’t following him. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing?” Minhyun replied, still confused and lost. He’s not waiting for anything. Or should he be waiting for something?

Okay now,  _ everything _ was just really fucking confusing. 

He heard Jonghyun curse, then the artist went down and pulled on his wrist and led him upstairs. 

Even in a state of confusion, he didn’t let him do that. He’s survival instincts were high and alert after almost getting run over by a truck after all. So before Jonghyun could completely pull him up, his hand was already clutched on the railing of the stairs. Making Jonghyun stop midway again. 

Aron would be so proud of him if he could see him right now. He’s taking care of his life. Hell, if Aron’s here, he would proudly shout:  _ Congrats for not being so willingly killable, Minhyun! Good job! Keep on doing that! _

“Are we seriously doing this again?” Jonghyun groaned. 

“I’m being unwillingly killable, Jonghyun, please  _ respect _ it.” 

Jonghyun stared at him as if he’s torn between forcing him up the stairs or to be patient with him. The artist then glanced up at the ceiling and breathed out an exasperated sigh. He lifted his right hand and touched his forehead, then his chest, and then continued the movements from shoulder to shoulder, until he made the sign of the cross over himself.

_ What the fuck? _

_ Was Jonghyun praying right now?  _

“Look when I told you to respect it, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m praying for an abundance of patience, Minhyun,” Jonghyun breathed out. “Please  _ respect _ it.” 

“Well, if you put it that way,” Minhyun shrugged, loosening his grip on the railing. It was a stupid move. A _ very _ stupid move. Because as soon as he did that, Jonghyun reached for his wrist and pulled him up the stairs. 

_ God. Why was he so willingly killable? _

❈❈❈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survived this chap. I cri. 
> 
> If you found out what book this story is, congratulations. You are now slightly close on how the story goes. If not, then keep on guessing 😂
> 
> Thank you G, for the abundance of support. <3


	6. Four: Jonghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never insult an artist or it would lead to a TedTalk: douchebag edition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [Breathin](https://open.spotify.com/track/5m3qL4Sta7L4mw3WvHyZhL?si=bkzJVfprQz2_829_s2Y00g) by Adam Christopher
> 
>  **TW** : There's a lot of d*ck words. Okay, maybe not a lot, but more than two is considered many, and many = a lot. aaaaaaaaaaand... a slightly pre-panic attack. I didn't delve on it too much, because... well, I don't want to. But since it's needed, we do what we have to do. *deep sigh*

“Showering suits _ you.” _

On a regular occurrence, Jonghyun would feel happy hearing that.  _ Happy _ wasn’t even the exact word to describe how it would make him feel. To put it into words, he wouldn’t be standing here, staring at the reflection of the man in the mirror with his eyebrow cocked up. He would be right in front of him, pulling him and kissing him hard until the man would moan and wouldn’t say a single word other than his name. 

But this  _ wasn’t _ a regular occurence. And Minhyun sadly wasn’t complimenting him. 

He was  _ insulting _ him. 

Jonghyun could blame  _ Fate _ for that (and Aron too). After all, it was her fault why they had to meet  again today. But the insult that came from Minhyun’s mouth? That was totally Minhyun. 

Totally all on  _ Minhyun.  _

So being the dick that he  _ wasn’t,  _ he turned and smiled at Minhyun. 

“My Ex’s clothes suits  _ you,  _ too.”

The grimace that adorned Minhyun’s face immediately made him regret doing that. Jonghyun hated it. The way Minhyun’s beautiful features were contorted into an ugly smile. He hated this look on Minhyun, hated the way he looked so disgusted as his fingers unbuttoned his shirt. That without realizing, he was already in front of him, stopping Minhyun’s hands from doing anything else. 

“I’m sorry, that was a dick move.” 

Minhyun stilled, then slowly looked up at him. “Yeah, it is.” 

Jonghyun wanted to say:  _ well, you’re the one who started it _ , but the way Minhyun was staring at him made him stop. Minhyun’s eyes were too frantic. Too scared. Too vulnerable. Jonghyun knew that look too well. Years ago, it was him who had that look. And seeing that on Minhyun made Jonghyun want to protect him. 

It was funny, how the same feelings he felt when he first saw him all came back, but rather than the one before - the feelings that he felt now was stronger. And all that he wanted to was hug him tight and promise him that he’ll protect him from whatever was making him feel this way. 

Until he remembered that it was him. 

Okay, not technically  _ him,  _ since it was his paintings’ fault. But, he also had a hand in that since he was the one who made it. And then there’s the other factor that he may have scared Minhyun a bit. Though Minhyun understood why he had to pull and force him into his room to change his clothes. Still there’s that looming issue that Jonghyun wasn’t sure that he should address. 

To be honest, it wasn’t really an  _ issue _ nor Jonghyun thinks it was one. Though he knew that it’s a different case for Minhyun because it was  _ him _ who was going through that. After all, who would want anyone to see you spiraling out of control, right? And as much as Jonghyun tried to stop it from happening by using the poor excuse of how Minhyun needed to change his clothes because it may not look professional for the showing just so he could pull him out of the studio and it’s overwhelming presence, a part of him knew that it was too late.

And what’s happening right now is a proof of that.

“Breathe, Minhyun.” He murmured, gently squeezing Minhyun’s hand and waited until Minhyun did what he told him to do. Once he saw that Minhyun was a little calmer and could walk, he let go of one of his hands and pulled him to sit in a chair. He kneeled on the floor and gave Minhyun’s hand a gentle squeeze again. 

“Take a deep breath then exhale.” Minhyun did as told, and Jonghyun softly smiled, letting go of his hand. “Good. Do that over and over again until I’m back.” Jonghyun stood and walked towards his fridge. He reached for two cans of coke and smiled when saw that Minhyun was still doing it but with Little JR in front of him now, his tail wagging in time with Minhyun's breathing. 

Not wanting to break the two’s momentum, he carefully took a seat in front of Minhyun, placing one of cola in front of him and waited until he was calm enough to talk.

“Okay, I’m fine.” Minhyun sighed, glancing up at him then back to his pug and mumbling a soft  _ thank you.  _ Jonghyun hummed, and patted Little JR’s head as the pug passed him before heading to his bed. 

“Good,” Jonghyun said, looking back at Minhyun with a smile. He could see that Minhyun was better now, though still a little frazzled with what just happened, but he’s no longer frantic nor scared, nor panicking. “Can I tell you something?”

Minhyun looked at him a little scared again, but then shrugged and reached for the coke. 

“I wasn’t kidding when I told you that you’re worrying me,” Jonghyun began carefully, opening his can of coke. “And I’m not saying it’s bad that you feel and understand too much, or empathize too much. I told you that because I was worried you’ll be like  _ this.”  _ He glanced at Minhyun and smiled, albeit, a little too worried and forced. “What you felt was normal. You shouldn’t be scared or feel shit about it. It’s as normal as laughing and crying at any movie that you’ve watched. The only difference is, being here is more overwhelming. It makes you feel more. Those paintings could be too much at times, because I made it that way. But that doesn’t mean that I know you nor your life story completely.” 

He took a deep breath and sighed. “Because trust me, I don’t.” He said, looking straight at Minhyun before glancing at the unfinished painting at the far wall in his room. 

It’s been months since he started working on that yet he still wasn’t close to finishing it because no matter what he does, he couldn’t understand nor connect to the confession that inspired it. 

“So if you felt vulnerable because I saw you crying earlier, then let me tell you that all I saw was a man crying and empathizing with a painting. I don’t know your entire story, I’ll never completely know why you connected to it. Because just like those confessions, all I can see and will ever see are the words written on it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He heard Minhyun sigh, then saw him nodding. But Jonghyun knew that Minhyun needed more time to let his words sink in. And though, they probably had less than fifteen minutes left before his showing, he let him have that. 

After all, he understood what Minhyun was feeling. He knew what it feels like to have your emotions out in the open. Completely bare without anything protecting you. The feeling couldn’t be explained in words nor was it close to the saying:  _ standing naked in a crowd full of strangers.  _ That’s just putting it nicely and far from the emotional turmoil you’re feeling inside. 

It’s far worse than that. 

“Why did you start doing this . . ?” Minhyun asked, staring at the painting. 

Jonghyun looked back at Minhyun and smiled sadly. “Do you want the douchebag truth or . . ?”

“The douchebag truth.” Minhyun replied with a small smile. 

“I want whoever sees it to feel the pain. I want them to realize that they’re lucky and that they should be grateful that they’re not suffering the same way as the one who inspired it.”

Minhyun looked at the painting and nodded. “Makes sense.”

Jonghyun chuckled dryly. “It makes sense because I’m a douchebag?”

“No,” Minhyun shook his head, then looked back at him. “It makes sense why your paintings are like that. How every painting of yours felt like they’re screaming and wanting to be heard.”

Jonghyun bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. Though that’s the reason why he began doing this, still, hearing it said to him felt like he just told his own confession. But unlike the anonymous confessions that he received, his wasn’t. Now he was the one who’s feeling bare and vulnerable but weirdly, it didn’t feel that bad. Which is quite scary. 

“Hey . . .” Minhyun began gently, reaching for his hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “I don’t know if this helps, but a  _ dick  _ once told me that he doesn’t know my entire story nor completely know why I connected to his  _ paintings.”  _ Jonghyun laughed at that. “So cheer up, I’m not getting inside your head. In fact, all I see is a talented painter who may be a dick and has douchebag tendencies but I know he has good reasons.”

_ “Thanks,”  _ Jonghyun smiled as he stared at their hands. It felt weird how Minhyun’s hand felt in his. But not weird as in  _ weird,  _ it just felt . . . strangely comforting. Far different from when he was holding his exes hand. Then again, what they’re sharing at the moment was kinda like that. That even if he felt vulnerable moments ago, there was that comforting feeling. That somehow, he didn’t feel like he was being invaded. 

“I have a question,” he asked, looking up at Minhyun. Minhyun nodded at him to continue and he smiled. “Is the  _ dick  _ guy handsome?”

Minhyun stared at him, then raised an eyebrow. “He is, but I hope he’s not flirting with me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s not. He loves his studio too much to risk doing that  _ again.” _

Minhyun cocked his eyebrow for him to explain, but Jonghyun shook his head, pulling his hand away. “Later. Right now we have a showing to do.”

Minhyun cursed, standing and reaching for his phone to check the time. “We’re ten minutes late. You should have told me.” 

“Yeah, I should have, but I’m enjoying this Ted talk too much to do that.” 

Minhyun narrowed his eyes at him before checking himself in the mirror. “You really are a dick.”

“A handsome dick,” Jonghyun clarified. Minhyun rolled his eyes at him and called him names under his breath, but Jonghyun couldn’t care less. Everything that’s happening is now fully sinking in on him. 

He always thought that the likelihood of their paths ever crossing again was minimal. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d remember Minhyun if they do crosspaths again. 

After all, the first time he saw him, both of them were still too young and Minhyun was too drunk. And even though he felt something back then - it was easily forgotten with what happened next. Then, of course, the second time that he saw him. He didn’t even know that it was him because he was too busy punching Ayden, and it was until he saw Minhyun’s sister that he realized that it was actually him.

But by then, they were already far too different from the first time they met.

Gone were their youthful smiles, and instead, it was replaced by their scars - one they both tried to hide but cannot. 

And it’s the same today.

The only difference was, they learned to accept it, rather than hide it.

He stared at Minhyun and smiled. 

Funny how earlier he wasn’t even sure that it was really him until he learned his name. And yet, there’s that nagging feeling that he was sure that it was him. Because after all, Minhyun looked the exact way as he had imagined him. 

Different, but in a way, still the same.

Which was totally weird. Because although, he did think about him sometimes, still, being right on how he imagined him to be was downright weird and creepy at the same time. 

But nevertheless, he’s glad. 

He sometimes wondered what happened to him. Wondered if he was in a better place. Wondered if he’s happy. If he stopped hurting. If he moved on. 

Looking at Minhyun now, the answer is probably both yes and no. 

He looked better. But Jonghyun could see that he’s still hurting, but at the same time, he also could see that he’s  _ trying.  _

Which was good. Trying is the first step after all. 

“Are you just going to stare at me the whole day?” Minhyun asked, shaking his head. Whether it was in amusement or impatience, Jonghyun doesn’t know. And like earlier, he couldn’t care less.

“I mean it when I said those clothes suit you.” He said instead, looking at Minhyun with a genuine smile.

“Better than your ex?” Minhyun asked, looking back at him with his eyebrow raised. 

Jonghyun hummed then grinned. “Definitely better than my ex.”

❈❈❈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I needed to do a serious end notes because of the pre-panic attack in this chap. it's far from the real thing and I'd rather keep it that way because as Jonghyun had said, to be exact in this part: _"To be honest, it wasn’t really an issue nor he thinks it was one. Though he knew that it’s different case for Minhyun because it was him who was going through that. After all, who would want anyone to see you spiraling out of control, right?_
> 
> The reason why I chose not to dive in and write the whole scene was one, it's different for everybody. What Minhyun was feeling that entire time, was his and his alone, and Jonghyun is just there, trying to do what he thinks he could do to help Minhyun and at the same time, not worsen it. So yes, he sounded kinda aloof (way aloof) and would look like he brushed it off, but there's much more to this story and Jonghyun's character than this chap. and the same goes for Minhyun (which you'd seen a glance of it from the previous chap). Wow now I sounded like a lawyer defending these characters XD but yes, I just don't want anyone to judge anyone just yet, aside from the d*ck jokes (you could judge them on that a lot).
> 
> I hope you like this chap and that it brought more smile than a frown.  
> anyhoo, that's all.  
> Have a great day and don't forget to drop by on YT and listen to Minhyun's song, Every Night To You - I swear it's so good.


	7. Five: Minhyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A painting, a cup of tea, and a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of a song, this poem of Edmund Davis-Quinn titled: Write Poorly, inspired me to finish this chap and the incoming two ahead. I hope this poem too, would inspire you. <3
> 
> Write poorly.
> 
> **_Suck_ **
> 
> Write  **_awful_ **
> 
> **_Terribly_ **
> 
> **_Frightfully_ **
> 
> Don’t  **_care_ **
> 
> Turn off the inner editor
> 
> Let yourself  **_write_ **
> 
> Let it  **_flow_ **
> 
> Let yourself  **_fail_ **
> 
> Do something  **_crazy_ **
> 
> Write fifty thousand words in the month of November.
> 
> I did it.
> 
> It was **_fun,_** it was **_insane,_** it was **_one thousand six hundred and sixty seven words a day._**
> 
> It was  **_possible._ **
> 
> But, you have to turn off your inner critic.
> 
> Off completely.
> 
> Just  **_write._ **
> 
> **_Quickly._ **
> 
> In  **_bursts._ **
> 
> With  **_joy._ **
> 
> If you can’t write, run away for a few.
> 
> Come  **_back._ **
> 
> Write  **_again._ **
> 
> Writing is like anything else.
> 
> You won’t get good at it immediately.
> 
> It’s a craft you have to keep getting better.
> 
> You don’t get to Julliard, unless you practice.
> 
> If you want to get to Carnegie Hall,  **_practice,_ **
> 
> **_practice, practice._ **
> 
> …or give them a lot of money.
> 
> Like anything else it takes ten thousand hours to get to mastery.
> 
> Just like Malcolm Gladwell says.
> 
> So  **_write._ **
> 
> **_Fail._ **
> 
> Get your  **_thoughts_ ** down.
> 
> Let it  **_rest._ **
> 
> Let it  **_marinate._ **
> 
> **_Then_ ** edit.
> 
> But don’t edit as you type,
> 
> that just slows the brain down.
> 
> Find a daily practice,
> 
> for me it’s blogging every day.
> 
> And it’s  **_fun._ **
> 
> The more you write, the  **_easier_ ** it gets. The more it is a  **_flow,_ ** the less a  **_worry._ ** It’s not for  **_school,_ ** it’s not for a  **_grade,_ ** it’s just to get your thoughts  **_out there._ **
> 
> You  **_know_ ** they want to come  **_out._ **
> 
> So  **_keep at it._ ** Make it a practice. And write  **_poorly,_ ** write  **_awfully,_ ** write with  **_abandon_ ** and it may end up being
> 
> **_really, really, good._ **

“About earlier . . .” 

Jonghyun looked up from the trunk of Auburn’s car and saw her biting her lip, choosing the right words to make sure she wouldn’t hurt him. 

Auburn didn’t need to do that. She didn’t hurt him, nor did her words do. It was far from that. What she said was the truth after all. If things didn’t happen, Jonghyun was sure that his brother would do just that - well, if their father didn’t beat him to it first.

And that’s what made him sad. How even after years, those _truths_ that’s impossible to happen still affected him as if it just happened yesterday. 

With a sigh, he placed the painting inside then closed the trunk. He pulled Auburn to him and leaned his back on her car. “Let’s do a _suck-and-sweet_ time _,_ Aub.”

“Now is not the time, Jonghyun, you have a showing—”

“My _suck,_ ” he began, cutting her off. “Is that Auburn Mason Reed is being such a _butterfly_ by feeling guilty for saying the truth.” 

Auburn stared at him then snorted. “You can stop using _butterfly_ as a curse, Jonghyun. You’re old enough to curse.”

“Where’s the fun in that if I use normal curses?” he teased, pulling a stray hair off Auburn’s face. “But, seriously stop feeling bad for saying the truth. I know you didn’t mean any harm. And even if you didn’t say it, I was already thinking of it. Not just today, but every _butterflying_ day.”

“I know . . . that’s why I shouldn’t have said it.” Auburn sighed. “Today’s the first time you opened your gallery in months, Jonghyun. The first time you had _this_ amount of paintings. And here I am, reminding you again of what could have been, ruining this butterflying amazing day—”

 _“Auburn,_ I mean it. Stop.Feeling. _Guilty.”_ He pulled Auburn’s chin and made sure she stared straight into his eyes. “Don’t feel guilty. It’s normal that I miss _them._ It’s normal that I think of the _‘could have been’s’._ It’s normal that you tell me of those _could have been’s._ He’s part of our _lives,_ Aub. And years and _death_ could never take that away.” 

Auburn bit her lip as tears shimmered in her eyes. Jonghyun hated that he made her cry again. But he knew that hard truths were what she needed. 

“Okay. You’re right.” Auburn whispered, wiping her nose with her sleeve. 

“Of course, I am.” He said, wiping a tear off her cheek. Auburn rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away. “Your turn, Aub. Tell me your _suck.”_

“My suck is that you’re maturing way too fast.”

“I’m twenty-six. It’s about time I become mature, don’t you think?” 

Auburn rolled her eyes again, but this time Jonghyun flicked her on the head. “Stop rolling your eyes or it wouldn’t go back to normal.”

“My _sweet,”_ Auburn ignored him - with another roll of an eye. “Is the person right in front of me now.” She smiled at him brightly, and despite her tear-streaked eyes, he could see that she was truly happy. 

“I’m proud of the man that you’ve become, Jonghyun. And I’m sure wherever they are now, they’re proud of you, too.”

“You really just have to say that and make it harder for me not to fall for you again, don’t you?” he teased, mirroring Auburn’s tear-induced bright smile. 

“Oh, please,” Auburn scoffed. “We both know you’re way past that phase now.”

 _“Maybe._ Maybe _not._ ” He joked before Auburn pinched him on the side. 

“Your turn, tell me your _sweet.”_

 _“Now.”_ He answered. He didn’t even need to think about it because he knew that everything that happened earlier ‘til now was his sweet. Hopefully that included the rest of the day. 

“Don’t tell me it’s because of me?” Auburn asked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Jonghyun chuckled and flicked her on the forehead. “Bold of you to assume that it’s you when you’ve just rejected me seconds ago.”

“As if you even mean it. And like I said, we both know that you’re past that phase, which means: that’s never going to happen.”

It was the truth. He and Auburn would never happen. No matter how easy it was to fall in love with Auburn and how a part of him would always love her. They both knew that this _love_ they have for each other - as weird as it was - would never result into something more. 

Jonghyun already knew that years ago, even before his brother fell in love with her. Hell, there was even a chance that their relationship could lead to something _more_ that time - but he knew that Auburn deserved someone else. Someone who could be with her in every step of the way. Someone who could be her partner through thick and thin.

And he knew that _that_ person wasn’t him. Just like how he knew that the person Seongwu needed wasn’t him, either.

Jonghyun didn’t feel bitter with that. Not because he was being a martyr, but because he knew what a person needed for a partner just by watching his parents. And with Auburn and Seongwu, it was obviously not him. 

At times, he felt lonely because of that. He was only human after all. He needed someone too. But it’s hard when he, himself, knew that he wasn’t enough. Even without what happened years ago, he knew he wasn’t enough for someone like Auburn and Seongwu. And with everything that happened and what’s happening in his life, he knew that he’ll never be enough. 

His life was too messy. He was too broken. And no one deserved to be put in the same situation as his. Just imagining someone like Auburn or Seongwu carrying the burden with him scared him to death. He couldn’t hurt anyone or put them in that state again. 

That’s why all he did was play around. Wasting his time with people he knew would never last. Like his lazy ass ex, Justin, or Bridgette, the evil bitch ex of his that spray-painted his artworks two months ago. Or Hannah the palindrome, his last ex and ex-employee, who knew nothing but to file her nails.

_What a waste of palindrome._

“How’s Owen?” he asked, shaking his thoughts away as he stared at the art studio across the street.

“Stuck in his batcave, what else.” Auburn sighed, twisting the engagement ring on her finger - a habit that she did when she’s worried. 

“Having second thoughts?” he asked carefully, looking away from Auburn’s hand. He didn’t want to see the ring. There’s so many memories behind that. And it’s not because he’s bitter because it was Owen that proposed to Auburn, but because he knew that the one who was supposed to use that ring to propose to her was his brother. 

“No, of course not. It’s just that he’s not _showering_ . For _days._ And he’s not even eating _._ He’s just stuck there in his room, painting.” 

“Chill, he’ll probably do the showering later.” Jonghyun answered, knowing what Owen was going through. Hell, he didn’t even shower for days until today. “And you don’t need to worry about him not eating. Seongwu’s been dropping by to make sure we _do_ eat, so there’s that.”

He failed to mention that Seongwu wouldn’t be dropping by tomorrow because he’s on his way back to Seoul now, but heck. He’ll just do the food delivering. Owen lives across anyway, and he could just ask Taeyong to bring him food if he feels too lazy to leave his studio.

“Seongwu’s here?” Auburn asked, her eyes twinkling with hope. 

Jonghyun rolled his eyes. “He’s dating my best friend, Aub. Stop hoping.”

“Well, if you started seriously dating, then _maybe,_ I’ll stop _hoping.”_

“Wake up and smell the coffee, Auburn. You know those things will never happen.”

“For someone who kept nagging me on how I deserve a second chance at love, to the point of introducing me to _someone,_ and giving that someone my grandmother’s engagement _ring_ \- you sure are a _hypocrite_.”

_And here we go again._

This was why sometimes, he’d rather not see Auburn. Especially when Owen’s not with her. 

“You deserve a second chance at love, Auburn. You shouldn’t let what happened with my brother stop you from being happy with someone else.”

“And you don’t think you do?” Auburn asked, her voice rising. “You deserve to be happy as much as I deserve to be happy, Jonghyun. You deserve to live your life. To enjoy it and not let what happened ruin you. And I’m not saying this because I’m sure that’s what your brother would tell you. I’m saying this because I know if there’s anyone out there who deserves a second chance at life, it’s _you._ ”

 _Did he deserve a second chance?_ He glanced at Auburn’s ring and he knew that he didn’t. Hell, even his father knew that he didn’t deserve a second chance. That’s the reason why their relationship was like this now. Because just like Fate, he ruins everything he touches. So how could he deserve a second chance?

“So please, Jonghyun, for once, just try and live—”

 _“Live?”_ Jonghyun bitterly laughed. “You want me to _live_ , Auburn, after everything that I did?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jonghyun.” Auburn stared at him, her voice resolute and full of anger. “What happened _wasn’t_ your fault.” 

“Tell that to my father, Aub. Because apparently, he forgot that.” He said, turning and walking away from Auburn. He heard her curse, and it pained him that things led to this yet again. 

Sighing, he paused in his steps and glanced back at Auburn. “My sweet is still _now,_ Aub. Even if we ended up like this again, my sweet is still _now.”_

Auburn took a deep breath and nodded. “Mine is still the _butterflying_ person in front of me.”

❈ ❈ ❈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for Auburn. She makes people do deals and brings out hard truths on some.


	8. Six: Jonghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butterflying suck-and-sweet time.

“About earlier . . .” 

Jonghyun looked up from the trunk of Auburn’s car and saw her biting her lip, choosing the right words to make sure she wouldn’t hurt him. 

Auburn didn’t need to do that. She didn’t hurt him, nor did her words do. It was far from that. What she said was the truth after all. If things didn’t happen, Jonghyun was sure that his brother would do just that - well, if their father didn’t beat him to it first.

And that’s what made him sad. How even after years, those _truths_ that’s impossible to happen still affected him as if it just happened yesterday. 

With a sigh, he placed the painting inside then closed the trunk. He pulled Auburn to him and leaned his back on her car. “Let’s do a _suck-and-sweet_ time _,_ Aub.”

“Now is not the time, Jonghyun, you have a showing—”

“My _suck,_ ” he began, cutting her off. “Is that Auburn Mason Reed is being such a _butterfly_ by feeling guilty for saying the truth.” 

Auburn stared at him then snorted. “You can stop using _butterfly_ as a curse, Jonghyun. You’re old enough to curse.”

“Where’s the fun in that if I use normal curses?” he teased, pulling a stray hair off Auburn’s face. “But, seriously stop feeling bad for saying the truth. I know you didn’t mean any harm. And even if you didn’t say it, I was already thinking of it. Not just today, but every _butterflying_ day.”

“I know . . . that’s why I shouldn’t have said it.” Auburn sighed. “Today’s the first time you opened your gallery in months, Jonghyun. The first time you had _this_ amount of paintings. And here I am, reminding you again of what could have been, ruining this butterflying amazing day—”

 _“Auburn,_ I mean it. Stop.Feeling. _Guilty.”_ He pulled Auburn’s chin and made sure she stared straight into his eyes. “Don’t feel guilty. It’s normal that I miss _them._ It’s normal that I think of the _‘could have been’s’._ It’s normal that you tell me of those _could have been’s._ He’s part of our _lives,_ Aub. And years and _death_ could never take that away.” 

Auburn bit her lip as tears shimmered in her eyes. Jonghyun hated that he made her cry again. But he knew that hard truths were what she needed. 

“Okay. You’re right.” Auburn whispered, wiping her nose with her sleeve. 

“Of course, I am.” He said, wiping a tear off her cheek. Auburn rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away. “Your turn, Aub. Tell me your _suck.”_

“My suck is that you’re maturing way too fast.”

“I’m twenty-six. It’s about time I become mature, don’t you think?” 

Auburn rolled her eyes again, but this time Jonghyun flicked her on the head. “Stop rolling your eyes or it wouldn’t go back to normal.”

“My _sweet,”_ Auburn ignored him - with another roll of an eye. “Is the person right in front of me now.” She smiled at him brightly, and despite her tear-streaked eyes, he could see that she was truly happy. 

“I’m proud of the man that you’ve become, Jonghyun. And I’m sure wherever they are now, they’re proud of you, too.”

“You really just have to say that and make it harder for me not to fall for you again, don’t you?” he teased, mirroring Auburn’s tear-induced bright smile. 

“Oh, please,” Auburn scoffed. “We both know you’re way past that phase now.”

 _“Maybe._ Maybe _not._ ” He joked before Auburn pinched him on the side. 

“Your turn, tell me your _sweet.”_

 _“Now.”_ He answered. He didn’t even need to think about it because he knew that everything that happened earlier ‘til now was his sweet. Hopefully that included the rest of the day. 

“Don’t tell me it’s because of me?” Auburn asked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Jonghyun chuckled and flicked her on the forehead. “Bold of you to assume that it’s you when you’ve just rejected me seconds ago.”

“As if you even mean it. And like I said, we both know that you’re past that phase, which means: that’s never going to happen.”

It was the truth. He and Auburn would never happen. No matter how easy it was to fall in love with Auburn and how a part of him would always love her. They both knew that this _love_ they have for each other - as weird as it was - would never result into something more. 

Jonghyun already knew that years ago, even before his brother fell in love with her. Hell, there was even a chance that their relationship could lead to something _more_ that time - but he knew that Auburn deserved someone else. Someone who could be with her in every step of the way. Someone who could be her partner through thick and thin.

And he knew that _that_ person wasn’t him. Just like how he knew that the person Seongwu needed wasn’t him, either.

Jonghyun didn’t feel bitter with that. Not because he was being a martyr, but because he knew what a person needed for a partner just by watching his parents. And with Auburn and Seongwu, it was obviously not him. 

At times, he felt lonely because of that. He was only human after all. He needed someone too. But it’s hard when he, himself, knew that he wasn’t enough. Even without what happened years ago, he knew he wasn’t enough for someone like Auburn and Seongwu. And with everything that happened and what’s happening in his life, he knew that he’ll never be enough. 

His life was too messy. He was too broken. And no one deserved to be put in the same situation as his. Just imagining someone like Auburn or Seongwu carrying the burden with him scared him to death. He couldn’t hurt anyone or put them in that state again. 

That’s why all he did was play around. Wasting his time with people he knew would never last. Like his lazy ass ex, Justin, or Bridgette, the evil bitch ex of his that spray-painted his artworks two months ago. Or Hannah the palindrome, his last ex and ex-employee, who knew nothing but to file her nails.

_What a waste of palindrome._

“How’s Owen?” he asked, shaking his thoughts away as he stared at the art studio across the street.

“Stuck in his batcave, what else.” Auburn sighed, twisting the engagement ring on her finger - a habit that she did when she’s worried. 

“Having second thoughts?” he asked carefully, looking away from Auburn’s hand. He didn’t want to see the ring. There’s so many memories behind that. And it’s not because he’s bitter because it was Owen that proposed to Auburn, but because he knew that the one who was supposed to use that ring to propose to her was his brother. 

“No, of course not. It’s just that he’s not _showering_. For _days._ And he’s not even eating _._ He’s just stuck there in his room, painting.” 

“Chill, he’ll probably do the showering later.” Jonghyun answered, knowing what Owen was going through. Hell, he didn’t even shower for days until today. “And you don’t need to worry about him not eating. Seongwu’s been dropping by to make sure we _do_ eat, so there’s that.”

He failed to mention that Seongwu wouldn’t be dropping by tomorrow because he’s on his way back to Seoul now, but heck. He’ll just do the food delivering. Owen lives across anyway, and he could just ask Taeyong to bring him food if he feels too lazy to leave his studio.

“Seongwu’s here?” Auburn asked, her eyes twinkling with hope. 

Jonghyun rolled his eyes. “He’s dating my best friend, Aub. Stop hoping.”

“Well, if you started seriously dating, then _maybe,_ I’ll stop _hoping.”_

“Wake up and smell the coffee, Auburn. You know those things will never happen.”

“For someone who kept nagging me on how I deserve a second chance at love, to the point of introducing me to _someone,_ and giving that someone my grandmother’s engagement _ring_ \- you sure are a _hypocrite_.”

_And here we go again._

This was why sometimes, he’d rather not see Auburn. Especially when Owen’s not with her. 

“You deserve a second chance at love, Auburn. You shouldn’t let what happened with my brother stop you from being happy with someone else.”

“And you don’t think you do?” Auburn asked, her voice rising. “You deserve to be happy as much as I deserve to be happy, Jonghyun. You deserve to live your life. To enjoy it and not let what happened ruin you. And I’m not saying this because I’m sure that’s what your brother would tell you. I’m saying this because I know if there’s anyone out there who deserves a second chance at life, it’s _you._ ”

 _Did he deserve a second chance?_ He glanced at Auburn’s ring and he knew that he didn’t. Hell, even his father knew that he didn’t deserve a second chance. That’s the reason why their relationship was like this now. Because just like Fate, he ruins everything he touches. So how could he deserve a second chance?

“So please, Jonghyun, for once, just try and live—”

 _“Live?”_ Jonghyun bitterly laughed. “You want me to _live_ , Auburn, after everything that I did?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jonghyun.” Auburn stared at him, her voice resolute and full of anger. “What happened _wasn’t_ your fault.” 

“Tell that to my father, Aub. Because apparently, he forgot that.” He said, turning and walking away from Auburn. He heard her curse, and it pained him that things led to this yet again. 

Sighing, he paused in his steps and glanced back at Auburn. “My sweet is still _now,_ Aub. Even if we ended up like this again, my sweet is still _now.”_

Auburn took a deep breath and nodded. “Mine is still the _butterflying_ person in front of me.”

❈ ❈ ❈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Suck-and-sweet time:** where you say your suck and sweet of the day. The good and the bad. The high and the low.
> 
>  **Butterfly/butterflying:** this is just a random idea that I learned from reading Coho’s Point of Retreat - basically the genius kid there was saying that curse words were just letters mixed together that the “system” made to be negative or harmful. So for example, if we replaced _fuck_ to _butterfly_ , then _butterfly_ would be the same curse word as _fuck_ — okay I know that’s confusing af - but admit it, the kid was a genius for putting it that way 😂 and ofc, I just have to use it bc as you can see, Jonghyun knew Auburn since he’s young and I doubt (if you notice) goody Auburn here would allow Jonghyun (even if she knew he does) to curse at such a young age 😂
> 
> But enough of those long explanations, like I’ve said last chap, watch out for Auburn. HAHAHAHAHA this prbly wouldn’t be her last cameo bc she became the key on opening a butterfly effect but - that’s that (for now). 
> 
> I may have went out of the way and went all out on this whole Aub-Jju chap (I couldn’t resist okay, they have too much chemistry that I didn’t even imagine would be possible) but again - that’s that. 
> 
> Ps: I hope you like Auburn’s ‘smol’ cameo.  
> if you know her and Owen, and Bridgette - who deserves to do what she did on Jonghyun - then here’s a hug 🤗 and if you understood where I borrowed the whole “butterfly” and “suck-and-sweet time”, here’s another hug 🤗 and if you don’t, iz okay, you being here is already enough, so here: a tight hug 🤗
> 
> Have a great day! And ✌️


	9. Seven: Minhyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Life_ sucks. And you can’t be optimistic about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: [Heat of the Summer](https://open.spotify.com/track/649o53ULWYN1y7V2OI5kgo?si=3s-C0xErT_GFmbNmAcZmP) by Young the Giant
> 
> Unbeta’d. Confusing. Unbeta’d. And confusing. Why? Ask me in the comments section 😎

He was having a great time. 

He was having an amazingly great time being himself and just being _himself_ without being scared of being found out. 

Heck - he was laughing and joking with the clients that even if Jonghyun, the man of the hour, had been gone for almost an hour, Minhyun didn’t mind.

He didn’t even mind that he had to man the counter, make sure that all paintings were accounted for - and between those entertain and explain paintings to their guests. 

Because like he said, he was having a great time. 

He was having a fucking great time without all the burdens that he was carrying and he felt that maybe, Aron was right. Maybe he could do that ‘second chance’ shit. But of course, life _sucks._ And no matter how much Aron’s voice would tell him to be _‘optimistic’_ , _Life_ would bite back with a: _ha ha ha, you think?_

And that’s how Minhyun found himself in this situation. Frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights with a glass of champagne in his hand as he stared at Aron’s mother. 

“Of all places . . .” Aron’s mother said, “I never imagined that I’ll see you here.”

Her voice was flat toned yet cold, dripping with passive-aggressiveness and disgust. 

Minhyun hated it every time he heard it. But that’s not what he hated the most. He hated the way she stared at him pointedly. _Too pointedly._ As if she’s still debating whether his existence was a mistake or not.

For Aron’s mother, it probably was. But he still got the better end of the stick. The way she treated his sister though? That was a whole different case. And of course, there’s her son, Ayden. A living proof that sometimes death was better. 

Minhyun nodded at Ayden then wished that he didn’t feel any empathy for the guy. Ayden was smiling at him as if he owed him his _life._

He did. He fucking did owe him his life. The same way how he owed Aron his life. But you see, despite him owing his life to these two, he preferred Aron. Because Aron never threw that fact into his face and stared at him with a disgusting smile as if he owned him. 

That’s the difference between Ayden and Aron. You could see it in their smiles. That despite they shared that uncanny resemblance like how some twins were - the difference was the way they smiled. 

Aron would smile at you genuinely. That despite all the fucked up wrong decisions he made in his life - he was still a good person. 

Ayden? He would smile at you in a total bastard way. And unlike Aron’s wrong decisions in life, Ayden was a _clean slate_ \- as clean as what cops like him proclaimed. But cop or not cop, Ayden was still a total bastard. His miniscule ‘mistakes’ could never be compared to Aron’s one big mistake. It was far worse. Because Ayden was doing it because that was him. Which was him being a total bastard through and through. 

Minhyun looked away from Ayden and turned to Mrs. Kwak. Smiling his well-rehearsed-behaved smile. “I never imagined that you’ll be here, too, auntie—”

“—Judge Kwak,” Mrs. Kwak immediately corrected, glancing around to check if someone had heard him.

Of course, it’s Judge Kwak. They’re outside after all. God forbid people find out how she’s still connected to the people who ruined not only her reputation - but her _family_ as well. 

_“Judge Kwak,”_ Minhyun said. “So how can I _help_ you?” He asked with a smile, though the tone of his voice was too sarcastic that Aron’s mother glared at him again. 

“You can _help_ me by guiding me to this showing,” Mrs. Kwak said, waving her hand as if he was one of his assistants. 

Honestly, this treatment was far better than how she treated them on a regular basis. At least he was being treated as a human being here. He wasn’t being treated as some pawn. 

Minhyun hated that part too. He hated how both mother and son thought of them as nothing but another pawn in their chess pieces. 

For Aron’s mother - one that she’d rather throw away but cannot. For Ayden - one that he’d flaunt but cannot. 

Funny how his and his sister’s life was just like that. Then again, even without the messy relationship with the Kwak’s - their life was just like that. 

They’re just another pawn in someone’s life. To be used. To be thrown out. 

“Sure,” Minhyun answered before immediately regretting it. The paintings here didn’t deserve to be with Mrs. Kwak. She wouldn’t understand the stories behind each confession nor would care about the emotions and pains behind it. 

“I like this,” Mrs. Kwak muttered, staring at the painting in front of them. It’s the one that’s titled: _‘Sometimes I wish that my best friend was dead. Because everytime I see him, it feels like it’s better to be one.’._

Minhyun stared at Mrs. Kwak and saw that she was staring at it in deep thought. Did it hit a cord? Did she start growing conscience and maybe, felt a bit guilty on how she’s treating all of them? Like how his sister and him, and even the bastard, Ayden, were better off dead than to be under her _‘care’?_

“This will definitely look good in our dining area . . .” Mrs. Kwak paused, her fingers gliding through the canvas. “Definitely would look good with it. Don’t you think so, Ayden?”

 _Well, talk about a guilty conscience._ At least Ayden seemed to understand the painting - well, Minhyun hoped he did - because there was that sad look on his face and seeing that on Ayden was like a spark of hope. Maybe Aron was right defending that bastard brother of his. Maybe there’s _that_ hope after all. 

“I think so too.”

Or maybe Aron was just blind. Blood was still thicker than water after all. And _hope?_ Hope was for fools. Like how Aron was in believing that there’s fucking second chances as long as you’re: _optimistic._

Minhyun snorted. Both mother and son looked at him in disapproval but he couldn’t care less. He stared straight at Ayden and raised an eyebrow. “You think so, Ayden? Why? Because it will be a good reminder at dinner on how our life was so fucke—”

“I think you should watch your manners, _child.”_

“I’m just stating the truth, _Judge Kwak.”_ He bit back. He’s tired of this game. So fucking tired that he and his sister have to stoop down this level in order to _live._

Mrs. Kwak leaned closer to him and smiled. If you could a venomous smile like that a smile. “I mean it, Minhyun. Defying me here would be a mistake. Unless, you want everyone here to know who you really are?”

Minhyun bit his lip as Mrs. Kwak stepped back. He didn’t need to answer. His answer was as evident as his silence. So what if he was tired? So what if everyday he felt like he was better off dead? At the end of the day - those didn’t matter. He did _something_. And Mrs. Kwak would remind him of that every time. 

Because that’s how his life is. 

And that’s what he deserved. 

“I’ll take this,” Mrs. Kwak said, turning back to the painting as if she didn’t just make someone’s life a living hell. She then glanced at the studio then pointed at another painting. “And that one too.” 

Minhyun's eyes trailed over where she was pointing at then clenched his fists. 

_Anger._

_Real anger._

That’s what he felt as he stared at the painting. 

It was the painting of a woman. A woman so breathtakingly beautiful that if you didn’t look at her eyes that were burning with hatred - you’d think that she was an angel. 

The emotions in the woman’s eyes were too real. Too raw. It didn’t hide anything. It didn’t hide how she was so mad. How much she was hurt. How she was in so much pain. 

Minhyun loved this painting. It reminded him of his mother. What she went through when she raised them until her last moments - when she chose to protect them. 

Minhyun wouldn’t lie that he didn’t hate her for that. He still hated her for it, and a part of him will always will. Especially when he still doesn’t understand why she chose that road. But this painting though it didn’t answer his questions on his mother’s decisions, it did shed some light.

He began to understand his mother’s pain. Not just as a mother, but she, herself, too. 

_“‘God doesn’t exist. And if he does, he should be ashamed.’.”_ Mrs. Kwak read the confession attached to it, her fingers lingering on the painting as if she had any right to touch it. 

She didn’t have any right. Especially if she thought that these paintings were no better than decorations like those _‘perfectly’_ framed pictures of her family in her office wall. 

And even if miraculously she did understand what the painting meant - she still didn’t have any right. 

Not with everything she did. 

“I’ll take this.”

“No. Over my dead body - _no.”_

_“Minhyun,”_ Ayden warned, looking at him in disapproval and at the same time, a hint of _worry._ He knew he should heed Ayden’s warning. After all, the bastard knew how his mother was when you disobeyed her. 

But you see, this _painting_ \- this painting was a different case. It was worth so much more than that. So what if Mrs. Kwak would use her card on him? He could just run away again and began a life where people have no idea who he is. He’d been there, done that. 

But what about his promise to Aron? What about his sister? Could he turn a blind eye on that?

Could he abandon her, knowing how her life had been the years that he was gone?

The answer was evident. He couldn’t. 

_Not this time._

And it was so fucking unfair. So fucking unfair how they’re stuck in this limbo like nothing but chess pieces waiting to be used. 

“Is there any problem here?” A voice interrupted, standing next to him. Minhyun stared at the man and noticed that he was close to his age. But what made him stare more was the way he was familiar. As if he had seen him before. 

The stranger then smiled at Ayden, though it was too fake. “Nice seeing you again, Ayden, though I doubt Jonghyun would feel the same.”

Minhyun froze at the mention of Jonghyun’s name. 

Aron’s family knew Jonghyun? And this stranger knew Jonghyun?

“Don’t worry, I doubt that we’ll meet. He’s too busy talking with his _baby_ _girl.”_ Minhyun didn’t miss the way Ayden said it with bitterness nor the way the stranger next to him glared at Ayden. 

“Her name is _Auburn,_ Ayden. She isn’t Jonghyun’s _‘baby girl’_ nor anyone’s. I hope you’ll refrain on using such nicknames especially when you’ve been raised well by your parents.” The stranger stated, cold and clipped, then smiled challengingly at Aron’s mother. “Isn’t that right, _auntie?”_

The corners of Mrs. Kwak’s lips twitched, obviously irked at the blatant way she was being treated. Minhyun was expecting that she would make a scene, but instead, she just gave the stranger a forced smile. 

“Of course.”

“Good. Glad that we’re on the same page.” The stranger chuckled sardonically. “So what’s the issue here? Because I doubt you came here to _support_ Jonghyun.”

Minhyun didn’t need to be smart to understand that there was an issue between Jonghyun and Aron’s family. Hell, even if he wasn’t here in this spot, he would see that. Just seeing how Mrs. Kwak and Ayden looked suddenly so tense, said it all. 

“To buy paintings,” Mrs. Kwak answered, glancing at Minhyun in warning to keep his mouth shut. “We’re just here to buy something for the house and Jonghyun’s father suggested I stop by to check his work.”

“Did he now,” the stranger mused, again, sardonically, as if he knew something that Mrs. Kwak wouldn’t want him to know. 

“Yes.” Mrs. Kwak replied. Minhyun noticed how her lips were in a tight smile, meaning her patience were dwindling and sooner or later she'd go off. “So, excuse us, we’d like to look at the paintings _peacefully.”_

“I doubt you came here with _‘peaceful’_ intentions, auntie, and really,” the stranger paused then smiled at Mrs. Kwak’s daringly. “I’d rather you leave this place. _‘Peaceful’_ buying or not, it’s better if you leave now, unless you want the guests to witness Ayden getting punched by Jonghyun again.”

_Again?_

_Jonghyun punched Ayden before?_

Minhyun stared at Aron’s mother and saw her glaring at the stranger next to him. She’s probably contemplating on how she’ll turn the tables in her favor - because as much as this stranger seemed to have the upper hand, Mrs. Kwak wasn’t one to let someone embarrass her, let alone a man that’s way too young and wearing jeans and a hoodie. 

But it seemed that it’s not going to happen today. 

For the first time, Mrs. Kwak loses. 

And it seemed that she knew that the instant the doors of the studio opened, with Jonghyun coming in. 

Everything then happened so fast yet at the same time Minhyun saw everything in detail. How Jonghyun’s posture changed to alert then to being furious and then suddenly a familiar bulky man appeared next to him - holding him on the shoulders to stop him from moving. Mrs. Kwak then reached for Ayden’s arm, pulling him. Whether to protect him from Jonghyun or stop him from punching Jonghyun - Minhyun didn’t know. 

But it was obvious that the hatred wasn’t one-sided. Because as much as Jonghyun was glaring in loathe at Aron’s mother and his brother - the same goes with the mother and son. They’re glaring at Jonghyun as if they’re in war - an equal war with an enemy. 

Somehow, Minhyun envied that. How Jonghyun was an equal while he and his sister were just pawns. 

“Let’s go, Ayden,” Aron’s mother announced, staring at Jonghyun despicably before eyeing the stranger next to him with the same despise. “There’s no painting here that would look good in our house, anyway.” She then turned to him and gave him a pointed look. Another reminder to keep his mouth shut _or else._

Minhyun knew what that ‘or else’ meant. And as stupid he was earlier with him defying her, he wouldn’t do that again. 

Not when he knew that his sister’s life was going to be affected. 

“I’m sorry for that,” the stranger next to him tiredly said with a sigh. Staring at Aron’s family leaving the studio then Minhyun saw the stranger next to him shook his head at Jonghyun - like he was telling him not to do anything he’ll regret. It seemed to work. Jonghyun didn’t do anything but glare at the backs of Mrs. Kwak and Ayden until the two were out of sight. 

“That family . . . they’re a _mess,”_ the stranger continued with a grimace. “Those two, I mean . . . but sorry for making you go through that . . .” The stranger paused then sighed again, mumbling curses under his breath as Jonghyun angrily stomped his way towards them. “Great. He’s freaking mad yet again.” The stranger took a deep breath and looked at him then stared at him blankly. He then cocked his head, and frowned. “You don’t look like a _Hannah.”_

“A _‘Hannah’?_ ” Minhyun repeated, confused. 

“Yeah, a _Hannah_.” The stranger chuckled, but the tiredness in his voice was so evident. Gone was the confidence and the chivalry. Now he just looked like a goofy man who finished a marathon. 

“Do you need a drink?” Minhyun offered, giving the man a once-over. “You look like you need one.”

“Yes, I think I really _need_ a drin—”

“—what the fuck happened?” Jonghyun interrupted, glaring at Taeyong. “And why the hell the _two_ of you are here?”

Minhyun was about to ask what Jonghyun meant by them being here before the familiar bulky man - who Minhyun assumed were their friend - stood next to the stranger and shrugged. 

“Dongho says we’re here to fucking support you and to fucking buy a painting.”

Minhyun doubted that _that_ was the bulky friend - _Dongho,_ meant but apparently that was what he meant. 

“I don’t need your support,” Jonghyun sighed exasperatedly, brushing his fingers in his hair. “You’ve done more than enough of _that.”_

Minhyun raised a questioning eyebrow and was about to ask but Dongho subtly shook his head at him. 

_Was he a mind reader like how Jonghyun is?_

“Well then, we’ll just buy a fucking painting,” the stranger - who Minhyun still have no idea what his name was - said. 

“No, you won’t.” Jonghyun answered, glaring at the stranger. “Don’t push it, Taeyong. I’ve already had enough today.”

“See, that’s your problem Jonghyun,” Taeyong began,“you push your issues to your friends and in the end, we all have to adjust. Because you’re selfish like that.”

_What the fuck?_

Wasn’t it only moments ago that this guy was going head to head with Aron’s mother in what seemed like to protect Jonghyun and now he’s fighting him?

“Your issue is yours alone, Jonghyun. Not ours.” Taeyong said before walking away and stopping at the painting that Aron’s mother chose a couple of minutes ago. 

_Great. That painting again._

Minhyun was sure that this guy - Taeyong, knew more behind the story of each of Jonghyun’s artworks. Hell, he was sure that he wasn’t like how Mrs. Kwak was who bought paintings as decorations. But just like how Minhyun seemed to poke his ass in Jonghyun’s business like what he did with Auburn earlier, it seemed that this time too, he’ll do the same. 

Especially with the way Jonghyun was staring at his friend furiously. 

With a sigh, he followed their guest and stopped him before he pulled the number on the wall. “Sorry, that’s already sold.”

Taeyong quirked an eyebrow then nodded at the number. “The number is still on the wall, didn’t that mean it’s still for _sale?”_

“I forgot to remove it,” he said with a half-assed apologetic smile, taking the number off the wall. He could just put it back. Yup, he could just definitely put it back later once Jonghyun’s friends were out of the gallery.

“That’s sad,” Taeyong said, but the tone of his voice and the look that he was giving him was far from it. Pretty fucking far because he was staring at him in an inquisitive way as if he’s trying to read his thoughts. “This is my favorite work of Jonghyun’s . . .”

“Is that so?” Minhyun asked but not really meaning it as he took a step back from the painting. He stared at the painting then glanced at Taeyong. If the guy wanted to read his mind, then two could play the game. “Why?”

 _“Because it is what it is.”_

“What do you mean?”

Taeyong smiled wistfully then nodded at the confession at the bottom. “Is there a moment in your life that you wished that someone close to you was dead instead?”

 _A lot of times, I wish I was._ He wanted to say, but instead he shook his head. 

“Good. You’re lucky then.”

Minhyun was far from that. “Guess so.”

Taeyong smiled bitterly then nodded at someone from behind him. “My painting has been sold. Congrats.”

“It wasn’t yours to begin with,” Jonghyun grunted, taking the painting off from the wall. He then stared at Minhyun. “Was the client’s delivery card on the counter? I’ll pack it now before this asshole decides to text that buyer—”

“Actually . . .” Minhyun bit his lip. He didn’t think this through. He should have thought about this outcome - how Jonghyun would immediately pack it like how the other sold paintings. 

“‘Actually’?” Taeyong repeated, a mischievous grin forming in his lips. 

Minhyun didn’t know Taeyong much but he really wanted to sock him with something fierce. And weirdly, he meant that in a good way. He liked his character - the way he’s so confident and didn’t give a damn on whoever and whatever. 

A part of him envied that. 

He envied that a _lot._

If he and his sister were just a little like him then maybe their life wouldn’t be like this. They wouldn’t have to suffer. If they’re like _Taeyong_ , they could at least live their lives. They could be _optimistic._

“Are you okay?” Jonghyun asked, steering him out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He shrugged, looking away from Jonghyun who was now staring at him in worry. “Anyway . . .” Minhyun sighed. He hated lying and obviously Jonghyun didn’t want his friend to buy this painting. So unless someone suddenly appears and buys the painting - then his problem would be solved. 

He glanced around the gallery and noticed that there weren’t a lot of guests left. In fact the guests that were still here were just talking among themselves because most paintings were already sold and all that’s left was well - this painting and the painting that reminded him of his mother. 

_Just great._

_‘You could buy it, you know.’_ Aron’s unhelpful voice said in his mind. 

_‘Yeah. I could buy it and go broke.’_ He retorted back. Why was he even answering? Aron’s voice wasn’t even real for Pete’s sake. It’s just his guilty conscience that seemed to take charge whenever he didn’t need it. Aron chuckled and Minhyun cursed under his breath. Even Aron-in-his-head was fucking annoying. 

_‘Look, just buy it. You can just earn money again, but this painting? It will be with someone else and you can never take it back.”_

Minhyun hated how that made sense. And he hated how that hit home. 

It was just like what he did. How with one unthought decision, it changed and ruined lives. 

“Not that I’m being impatient or anything . . .” Taeyong said, staring at him with the same mischievous and now knowing smile. He crossed his arms and cocked his head. “So, what’s that _‘anyway’_?”

This guy was as annoying as Aron. 

Bulk— _Dongho,_ hummed then stared at him as if he’s waiting for him to explain. 

“You know, you really look familiar, did we see each other before?” Minhyun asked, changing the topic as Taeyong and Jonghyun both looked at Dongho, confused. 

_Good. At least that worked._ And well, he didn’t lie. Dongho was really familiar, he just couldn’t pinpoint where he saw him. 

Dongho stared at him then frowned. He then shook his head. 

“Dongho says he didn’t fucking know—” Dongho smacked the back of Taeyong head, which resulted in Taeyong hitting Dongho on the arms. “That hurt asshole!”

“He meant, Dongho doesn’t know you,” Jonghyun explained with a sigh, pulling Taeyong away from Dongho. Minhyun wondered why the two were the ones who kept talking. Were they like Dongho’s spokesperson? Why did he even need a spokesperson? “So, the delivery cards - it’s on the counter, right?” Jonghyun asked, but it sounded more like he’s begging him that it _should_ be there. 

“Look— I - uh—”

“It’s not there, isn’t it?” Taeyong interrupted. 

“Of course it’s _there.”_ Jonghyun replied, getting annoyed. 

“Really? Then should I help you look for it?” Taeyong offered with an impish grin - daring Minhyun to better say the truth now.

Now Minhyun really wanted to smack him. 

“No, I can do that myself.” Jonghyun replied, walking towards the counter. 

“I’ll just _accompany_ you then,” Taeyong said with a wink before following Jonghyun. Cursing, Minhyun followed suit. 

_‘Told you, you should just buy it.’_ Aron’s voice said in his head again and Minhyun cursed. Making Jonghyun who was now searching through piles of delivery cards, and Taeyong who was still smiling like a lunatic stare at him. 

“Is there a problem . . . not _Hannah?”_ Taeyong asked, watching him in amusement. 

“His name is Minhyun.” Jonghyun supplied, putting the first half of delivery cards away, then checking the other half.

“Ooooh, a _Minhyun._ I like a _Minhyun.”_

“Don’t you now,” Minhyun grumbled, taking a blank delivery card and pen from the basket. 

“What are you doing?” Jonghyun asked, watching him write. 

“Writing information, what else.” He answered annoyingly, writing all his details before giving it to Jonghyun. 

Jonghyun stared at him dumbfounded then frowned. “No.”

“Just deduct it from my pay, then I’ll pay the rest next time you need me again.”

“Next time?” Jonghyun asked, completely taken aback. 

Minhyun shrugged. “I made a deal with Auburn that I’ll be here next showing. Unless . . . you don’t want me to be?” 

If he was expecting Jonghyun to be happy with his announcement, he was up for a dissapointment. Jonghyun just stared at him. And he just continued to stare. His face was completely emotionless and Minhyun felt like he stepped over a boundary. 

“I need a smoke.” Jonghyun announced, looking away from him. Dongho, who was standing next to him, stopped Jonghyun from leaving and shook his head. “I need a _smoke,_ Dongho, or so help me god.” 

“Let him be, Dongho,” Taeyong interjected, waving his hand to the door. “And go, _smoke_. Burn your lungs, ruin your body, be a selfish inconsiderate asshole to those who wished they have healthy—”

“Fuck you.” Jonghyun said, pushing Dongho away and walking out of the studio. 

_Well, that went smoothly._

Minhyun sighed and watched as Jonghyun slumped over the door as he lit a cigarette. 

_Great._

“I like you, Minhyun. Did I tell you that?” Taeyong said, reading his delivery card as he smiled at him. 

“Yeah, but sorry, Auburn already beat you to this confessing thing.” 

Taeyong chuckled. “Of course she did.” He then leaned his chin on his palm and beamed at him. “So, are you free later this evening? I own that bar across the street.”

“As long as you’re not asking me out for a date, and it’s completely platonic and free, then sure.” 

Taeyong grinned. “It’s a deal, then.” 

❈ ❈ ❈


	10. Eight: Jonghyun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a trip down the memory lane of sweet and suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by (and also recommended listening) the song [Achilles Come Down](https://open.spotify.com/track/22TntnVO3lQNDR5nsvxGRs?si=JL3VZatmQ3eSdrJaXUSfJQ) by Gang of Youths

He should be happy. He should be celebrating right now, drinking and laughing with his friends and guests with the success of his showing.

It’s the first time that it got this big after all. The first time he showcased thirty-five paintings, filled the studio with guests, and the best part of it all - he sold thirty-three paintings.

Well, thirty-four, if you would count the one that Minhyun had bought, but even without counting that, it was still a feat.

_He sold thirty-three paintings._

One that he’d never imagined he’ll ever be able to do.

He remembered how it was three years ago. Back when he knew nothing about painting and all he knew was that he had a box full of sketch pads, paint brushes, and sets of paint that he could use to pass time.

After all, that’s the only thing he had back then. _Time._

 _Time_ as he waited for his father to come out of his coma. _Time,_ as he hoped and prayed that his father would come back to life and be the _same_ again.

Painting helped. Time passed fast as he got lost in different shades of colors. Time went by so fast that he hardly felt that he had been in the hospital for more than three months.

He didn’t feel hopeless during those times. He also didn’t feel alone. Hell, he didn’t even feel regret for being alive.

And for the first time in three years, he felt he was alive.

It was then when he met Owen Gentry, an artist just like him. But he didn’t even know that he was there next to him until a later time. He was lost in his sketchpad back then. Painting. Mixing colors. Then painting and painting again until it was late and he had to go back to his father’s room to sleep. 

Owen belatedly told him that he spent the first couple of days watching him for an hour, then it turned into two, until he lost count on how many hours he stood there watching him. That was until the last - the time they both learned each other’s name, when Owen brought him a canvas, noticing that he had no more pages left in his sketchpad.

Jonghyun remembered how he raised an eyebrow at Owen. Staring at him and reading his face if there’s a hint of pity. He hated someone pitying him. After all, he didn’t deserve it. If there’s someone who should be pitied and needed comfort and reassurance, it was his father, who lost not only his son, but his wife as well.

But Owen didn’t give him any of that look. Instead, he looked at him sternly then pushed a paper bag full of canvases in his hand before leaving him with nothing aside the words: _Use it._

And he did. 

He used it and used it. Washed and dried away canvases, then painted again until he couldn’t use it anymore. He remembered throwing away eight of it, because no matter what he did, it just didn’t seem right. 

It was until he was on the last canvas that he knew what he should do. It was inspired by a confession, the first confession that he accidentally heard. 

It was also the confession that led him to where he was now.

Even without closing his eyes, he could still picture every detail in that first painting of his. The different hues of orange, red, and blue. The white lines in the two hands. How the hand at the top of the canvas was feminine as it attempted to reach the masculine hand on the bottom, which was trying to reach her, but cannot. Then there’s the long thin black line that looked as a thread in the middle as it separated the two. 

He could still remember how he felt back then. How he was filled with different emotions as he continued to paint. _Happiness. Sadness. Anger. Feeling empty. Deep longing._ Then _grief_ and _acceptance._

But among those, there’s _love._

 _Love_ that he wished and hoped he’ll come across but at the same time, afraid that it’ll come for him. 

It was also that specific _love_ that inspired him that he was able to finish that painting. 

And that same _tragic love_ that he accidentally heard that changed his life and made him the artist that he was now today. 

Looking back at it now, he was thankful for that day. Thankful that somehow that random moment changed his life and made him feel alive. Thankful, that because of that, he was able to find his calling. Find something he could be good at. And had these two paintings that shared the same tragic fate as them. 

He stared at the painting of his mother and remembered the time he read the confession that inspired it. Like it’s title, the confession said: _“God doesn’t exist. And if he does, he should be ashamed.”_

He remembered that as soon as he read that confession, he instantly locked himself in his room. Mixing the exact shade of his mother’s skin. Painting the way his mother was when she was young. Then remembering and painting the way she glared at him and his brother when they fought. 

It wasn’t an easy process. He was either blanking out or crying when he was painting this portrait. But that helped. All the emotions that he bottled up was the one who finished it. And somehow, he ended up making it in his mother’s emotions. How he thought she would feel once _Fate_ chose to ruin their family. 

And it’s also with those emotions that he was able to paint his brother’s portrait. But unlike the one and only confession that inspired his mother’s painting, the confession about his brother came a lot. 

It started coming out once a month, then twice a month, until it became thrice a week - that if Jonghyun kept those same messily written confessions, he would fill an entire box. 

And it was in the last confession, covered in tear stains and ink blots in the same words: _Sometimes I wish that my best friend was dead. Because everytime I see him, it feels like it’s better to be one_ \- that he was finally able to start painting it. 

If he’s being honest, it was probably those stains that inspired it. After all, that was the trigger. The one that gave him the courage and the drive to finally suck it up and paint. 

It was also the one that made him decide to make another personal. A face that he knew every detail even with his eyes closed. 

But staring at these paintings now, and remembering his first painting, he couldn’t help but wonder why they all had the same tragic fate. 

Was _Fate really_ this unjust?

Was _Fate_ really this cruel? Making people meet and teach them what love is, only to break them at the end?

Because if _Fate_ is truly just like that, then he didn’t know if he could survive another blow.

He’s barely living. Barely surviving.

And with everything that happened today - from meeting Minhyun and having him work for him coincidentally, to having Aron’s mother and his bastard of a brother incidentally doing their random visit on the same day - Jonghyun really couldn’t take it anymore.

But like before, all he could do was stare at the paintings of his mother and brother. Ask Fate the same questions over and over again of: _What’s your plan, Fate? Until when do you want me to suffer? Until when will make me believe your false hopes then take it all away in the end?_

“About earlier . . .”

Jonghyun looked away from the paintings then glanced at Minhyun. He wasn’t looking at him and instead was staring at the painting that he was packing. But even without seeing his eyes, Jonghyun could see the guilt there. It was evident in his posture - how stiff and at the same time resigned his shoulders were hunched. 

Jonghyun didn’t like that. Minhyun shouldn’t feel guilty nor should he feel bad. What did he do wrong, anyway? If there’s someone who should feel that way, it’s him. He was the reason why Aron’s mother and brother were here after all. And because of him, Minhyun had to deal with them.

But you know what’s more aggravating than that? He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t ask Minhyun if he’s alright - even when he could see earlier he wasn’t. He couldn’t tell Minhyun that he didn’t need to pretend that he wasn’t bothered. That it’s okay that if he was angry and he could go to the rooftop to yell his frustrations away.

Because how could he do that when he was supposed to be a stranger? A stranger who didn’t know anything about who Minhyun is. And as much as he just wanted to tell the truth outright - to be honest and tell Minhyun everything, he just couldn’t. 

Doing so would make Minhyun run away.

And despite the fact that it’s better if Minhyun wasn’t here in Busan, Jonghyun knew that he should be here. 

His sister needs him. 

Jonghyun learned first hand after all, that despite how messy and toxic family relationships were - you should be there. Through thick and thin, you should be always there. 

That’s how he was still here anyway. The sole reason why he chose to be here even when every moment of every day was killing him. 

And it’s sad that it’s probably the same reason with Minhyun. Jonghyun just hoped that his situation was better than his. That instead of wishing it wasn’t him who was alive, Minhyun would be thankful that he was alive. 

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.” He muttered, looking away from Minhyun and staring back at the paintings again. He heard Minhyun whisper _what?_ And with a sad smile, he sighed. “Auburn. She started with that then followed with an apology. So if you’re going to do that too, then please, _don’t.”_

“But—”

“No _buts,”_ he interrupted. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Still, I went overboard. I should have asked you first before I made a deal with Auburn and before . . . before I bought the painting . . .”

Jonghyun shook his head. “I know Auburn, you could never say no to her even if you didn’t make that deal. And besides, even if you didn’t do that, I’ll ask you myself.” He paused, then glanced at Minhyun and smiled. “So really, it will still end the same.”

His smile seemed to work because Minhyun was now smiling at him. And although it wasn’t like the same pompous or bright smile Minhyun had smiled before things went shitty - still, this smile was better. 

A smile is always better than a guilty and forlorn look after all. 

“And you’re confident that I’ll agree with it?”

Jonghyun chuckled. “Of course. I always got my way after all.”

“Just like with Hannah?” Minhyun teased, which Jonghyun groaned and rolled his eyes at. 

“I didn’t get my way with Hannah. It was the other way around.” 

“Explain.” Minhyun ordered, placing the last packed painting on the shelf. 

“Well, for one - she wanted me to be the lost and contemplating mysterious artist that she wanted.” 

“Which she got when you locked yourself in your room for weeks and did nothing but paint?” Minhyun teased. 

“You’ve learned too much from Taeyong.” Jonghyun grumbled. “But yes, she got what she wanted, then got mad at me and did nothing but file her nails after that.”

“It must’ve been hard for her . . .” Minhyun commented after a few, and the teasing in his voice was gone. 

“Hard for her?” Jonghyun asked, surprised. 

“I mean . . . from what I didn’t want to learn from Taeyong . . .”

Jonghyun laughed at that. He liked how Minhyun was so blunt with his words. And knowing Taeyong and how he was so talkative, sharing _tea_ (as he often called it) about his dating life, Jonghyun knew that Minhyun would either shut Taeyong up or freak out and be disappointed with him and his failed relationships. 

Jonghyun just didn’t see this outcome. He’s used to his friends and they’re used to how his relationships fail. And if there were people who would chastise him, it’s usually, the Owen, who would smack him on the back of his head, muttering words on how he should take relationships seriously; or Auburn, who would pin him with a glare to get his shit together. 

But someone who’s empathizing with his ex? That’s a first. 

Then again, why was he surprised? If there’s one thing that he learned about Minhyun was that he’s an _empathizer._

“. . . it seemed to me that she wanted to be the one that inspired you and at the same time, be the one that you need.”

“Well, she did _inspire_ me when she made me read that book about Achilles and Patroclus.”

“And the _need_ part . . ?” Minhyun asked, staring straight in his eyes. 

“She couldn’t.” Jonghyun answered. Cold and clipped, and straight to the point. 

Minhyun stared at him, seeming to ponder his answer. It felt so intimate, the way he stared at him. It was as if Minhyun was trying to get past all his walls, entering the places that Jonghyun never let anyone in. And if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s staring at him and could read lips, he wouldn’t see the way his mouth moved, forming the hushed word: _why._

“Because I couldn’t give her that.” 

“Why do you think you couldn’t?” 

_Because I’m a mess. And no one deserved to be in that same mess with me._

“Because I’m an artist who values his art more than anything else.” 

That’s what he said instead. The same excuse he used over and over again to keep the people out. 

“I don’t think you are.” Minhyun answered, looking away from him. “At least that’s what I saw when you’re with Auburn.”

Jonghyun smiled. He liked how Minhyun saw through that but at the same time wished he didn’t. He looked back at the paintings and sighed. “Auburn is a different case and we’re not together.”

“Yeah. I heard that from Taeyong, too.” Minhyun answered in a sarcastic tone. 

“I’m sure you did.” He said. He heard a deep sigh coming from Minhyun. And by the time he looked back at him, Minhyun was already staring at him with worry in his face.

Jonghyun wanted to ask him why he’s worried. Why Minhyun seemed to be hurt in his place. But the part where he’d rather not hear his answer won over that. Because he knew that things wouldn’t change. 

Even if it’s Minhyun, he knew that things wouldn’t change. 

“Don’t give me that look, Minhyun. Because trust me, I’m doing my exes a favor whenever our relationship ends.”

“You say that but you obviously don’t mean it.”

“And you know that, because?”

“Because it’s obvious with the way you hold yourself.”

_Touché, Minhyun. Touché._

_Still, that wouldn’t change anything. It’s too late for that now._

“I’m a bad partner, Minhyun. Whatever you heard from Taeyong was just the icing on the cake.” Jonghyun said. He stared back at the painting of his brother. Imagining how it would be if he was still here. His brother would probably have told him off. He would tell him that he’s being stupid. That he’s making a mistake and he should start thinking back on his life choices. 

_“You deserve someone, just like anyone else, Jonghyun. No matter how asshole-y you are at times, you deserve to be love and love in return.”_

Jonghyun smiled sadly then bit his lip remembering his brother’s words. It’s one of two that he kept telling him over and over again. 

He would tell him that over breakfast - when he was still nursing a hangover, then when he would drive him over parties, just when he was about to open the door and drunk the night away. It would always result in him brushing it off though, and then the cycle would continue over and over again. 

Thinking back then, he should have listened. Thinking back then, he should have done what his brother said earlier when he still had the chance. But he just couldn’t. Aside from the fact that he still hasn’t found his Auburn, there’s that thought in his head. Playing over and over again. 

_I’m not worthy._

_I don’t deserve an Auburn or a Seongwu in life._

He wasn’t his brother after all. He wasn’t as smart or as righteous as him. All he did then was to waste his time playing around. Going to parties. Drinking. Flirting. Making out and having one night stands. 

So how could he even ask for someone to love him? When he, himself, knew that he wasn’t enough to be loved? 

Well, save for that night. 

Save for that night that he saw a guy at a party, drunkenly opening his car door. He didn’t know what he saw in him that made him realize that maybe, that guy was his Auburn or Seongwu. He didn’t know what he saw in him that made his heart falter - made him smile stupidly as he helped the man to the passenger seat then call his family to ensure that he gets home safely. 

He didn’t know what he saw in him that made him drive him home. 

Nothing more. Nothing less. But just drive him safely home. 

Jonghyun remembered calling his brother that night. Telling him to pick him up, and when his brother asked him why he was there instead of the party he dropped him off, all he said was: _I think I found my Auburn._

His brother’s reply came after a few, and even when Jonghyun was just hearing his voice, he knew that it was filled with relief, happiness, and excitement as he said: _We’ll be there in an hour._

For years, he regretted calling his brother that night. If he didn’t call him and just hailed a cab or walked home - then maybe, they would still be here. But a part of him was still happy that he did. That night was filled with laughter and banter as they drove to In-N-Out, celebrating the fact that the troublesome him finally had the courage to try. He vividly remembered the happy and sweet smiles of his mother and father as they passed each of their fries. The way their parents looked at each other with proud smiles - as if they’re congratulating each other how they did a great job in raising them. Then his brother would smack him on the shoulder, tell him to tell them more about his _Auburn,_ to the point of even video calling Auburn to tell her the news. 

And it continued on and on, until they were driving back home. The laughter, the banter, the sweet smiles continued on and on, until Fate ruined it all and took the life of not just his brother and mother but his and his father as well. 

Jonghyun bit his lip harder, stopping the tears that were forming and about to fall. He clenched his fists tightly, then closed his eyes. Slowly counting until he got everything under control. And when he knew that he did, when he was sure that his voice wouldn’t tremble, he stared back at the painting. Staring at his brother’s portrait as if he didn’t know the man that was painted on it. 

“Why did you buy this?” Jonghyun asked. He heard the sound of movement - then the nothing but only their steady intake of breaths. 

“Because I want to.” Minhyun answered after a few. 

“Why?” Jonghyun asked again, turning to Minhyun and staring at him. He watched for his expression. Reading and checking for lies, pity, and worse, empathy. But there was none. And all there was a look that Jonghyun saw whenever a client chose one of his paintings. The same look that he saw in Minhyun countless times today. The look of connection. 

_“Because it is, what it is.”_

And that, that was _enough._

“It’s yours then,” Jonghyun said, standing up and taking the painting off the wall. He walked to the counter and reached for one of the boxes, before placing and packing the painting inside. When he was done, he handed it to Minhyun and smiled. “Take good care of it. I treasure that like the other painting.”

Minhyun stared at the box, then nodded after a few. “I will.” 

“Good,” he said, letting go of the box. Minhyun then reached for his wallet, giving him pay, to pay half of it, but Jonghyun stopped him before he could do so. “Don’t. This painting couldn’t be bought with money anyway.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.” He said, smiling tiredly at Minhyun. “I don’t think there’ll be anyone else who deserved this painting other than you.”

“Then keep it. You’re the one who made this—”

“Including me. I’m included in the list who didn’t deserve it.”

Minhyun stared at him and seemed torn in asking him the reason, but remained mummed instead. Jonghyun was grateful for that. He wasn’t ready to answer it, and he knew that he wouldn’t be ready in the future too.

After all, some secrets shouldn’t be turned into confessions. And he was glad that Minhyun seemed to understand that. 

“Thank you,” Minhyun mumbled after a while, staring at the box in his hand. 

_Thank you, too._

He wanted to say, but kept it inside. Instead, he flicked Minhyun on the forehead and made a face. “Let’s go. It’s late and I need to bring you home.” 

“Excuse me?” Minhyun asked, rubbing his forehead and glaring at him. 

“I’m driving you home. Unless you want to walk this late at night with drunkards coming from Taeyong’s bar accompanying you?”

“Fuck, I forgot about that.” 

“Of course you do. Everyone always forgets drunk bastards when they’re walking home late at night.”

Minhyun rolled his eyes at him. “I don’t mean that. I forgot that Taeyong invited me to his bar.”

“He’ll survive,” Jonghyun answered, walking to the switches and turning off the lights one by one. He glanced at Minhyun when he was on the last switch, then raised a teasing eyebrow. “Do you prefer lights on or off?”

Minhyun shook his head then smacked him on the head before walking out the door. But Jonghyun saw the smile on his face and heard the whispered word: _Dimmed._

He told himself to remember that, just in case. 

❈ ❈ ❈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout-out to G, who always (without fail) helped me with this chapter.  
> To Madeline Miller and her amazing book - The Song of Achilles, which made me laugh and cry, and also brought back the missing Jonghyun in me. And lastly, the band Gang of Youths' and their song Achilles Come Down - this song was the one in charge this whole chapter, and it was also the one behind all these back and forth overflowing raw emotions. 
> 
> PS: I made some changes in chapter 3 and 5 (mainly Jonghyun's pov which is Two and Four) to align to this story. Hopefully it wouldn't confuse anyone so much, but if it does . . . well, the next future chaps will still be confusing, until the last. HAHAHAHAHA


End file.
